The Lives of Average Reploids
by Aria6
Summary: The games concentrate on X and Zero... but what is life really like, in the time of Mega Man X? Little fic bits, mostly original characters, enjoy! Read and Review please
1. The Demons

"Put that out, you fucktard."

"Ptthu?" The young Reploid, garbed in light blue and royal purple armor, almost swallowed his cigarette as the apparition appeared behind him. "Jesus God in his heaven, Kyle, don't scare me like that!"

"Put it out, Bitter," the human behind him repeated. He was a short, wiry man, not intimidating… until you looked carefully at his eyes. They were dark brown, and hard as stones. "Or I swear I'll shoot you. Right now." Eyeing his companion nervously… he had his sidearm out… Bitter decided that he wasn't willing to take the chance that he was serious and quickly stubbed the cigarette out.

"Jesus, Kyle, it's just a cigarette." Bitter said sullenly, raising a hand to run it through his hair. His hair fell down a bit past his shoulders, dark brown and silky. He liked to play with it when he was nervous.

"Just a cigarette," Kyle snorted. "I saw your 'just a cigarette' from Demon One." Bitter swallowed. That was a good long ways away. "And then I hot-footed over here to save your pitiful life. And why haven't you applied your camo screen yet?" That was a quick paint coat that would conceal Bitter's brilliant armor with a typical camouflage pattern.

"It makes me itch," he mumbled. "And I can never get my back right." There was a pause, then a resigned sigh.

"Give it here." Kyle took the canister, and quickly applied it. "And remember, no damned cigarettes. I saw a man get shot in the head right after he lit one, once."

"You mean you…?" Bitter asked, appalled, and Kyle snorted.

"Not me, idiot! A sniper got him. The light travels a long fucking way, and it's noticeable as hell on infrared."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Bitter said meekly. He really hadn't considered the dangers of infrared. Kyle shrugged it off.

"Just don't do it again. I don't give warnings twice." Bitter opened his mouth to say something, then closed it with a snap. Kyle was already gone.

Back at Demon One, Kyle reappeared as seamlessly as he had left. But unlike Bitter, the sentries at Demon One were not surprised. Kyle would have been quite disappointed if they were. The core of his team was not, perhaps, quite up to the standards of the Hunters… but they were close. Close enough that the Hunters would have snapped them up as recruits and given them that extra bit of polish Kyle just couldn't provide in an eyeblink. But they were still quite good, and Kyle ran his eyes over them appreciatively. Their command post was heavily camouflaged and almost invisible, unless you knew exactly what you were looking for. Two weapons were trained on him, saying very good things about their owner's alertness.

Kyle slipped into the command post, soundlessly, and a female Reploid walked to his side. Ordinarily, her armor was bright pink and yellow. Right now, it was fully camouflaged.

"Did you rip my brilliant brother a new one, sir?" She asked, a twinkle in her eye. The 'sir' was a military courtesy Kyle usually did not insist on, although he was technically their commander.

"Indeed." Kyle looked her in the eye, expression serious. "Sweet, if he doesn't shape up, he's gone. If this were the Hunters, I would have failed him already." Sweet winced.

"I know, sir. I'm sorry. He really seemed motivated when I told him about the opportunity. He's just so… so…"

"Lazy and unmotivated." Kyle supplied, and she winced, but nodded. "I'll give him one more month, but that's all."

"Fair enough, sir." Sweet said, resigned to reality. Kyle didn't go easy on any of them, and while his standards were slightly lower than the Hunters, he still insisted on a certain degree of competence. Sweet didn't know a great deal about his history, just that he'd once been a Hunter in the 15'th unit. And that he'd left after only two years, under some kind of cloud. From what little Kyle would say, she thought he had barely avoided legal prosecution, and only because of the chaos the Elysian incident had caused.

But their current employers could not have cared less. He had no actual criminal record, and he'd made some rank in the Hunters, which was pretty impressive for a human. Sweet sometimes wondered if they realized how much of a treasure they'd managed to scoop up. Kyle was a good trainer, a good tactician and strategist, and had a knack for inspiring loyalty. Under his tutelage, they were becoming an efficient little killing machine. Very impressive, given their grab-bag assortment of qualifications. For one reason or another, none of them were willing to join the Hunters or a regular army unit… but they still wanted to fight Mavericks.

_Target Beta is moving._ Came the whisper over their communicators. That was one of their forward scouts, a teenage girl named Sahara. _They're following __Butterchurn__ Road_

_Target Alpha is also moving, _Came a second voice, a second later. That was another of their scouts, a brilliant young male Reploid named Nike. _Over the Western hills._

_Heading five-six-niner.__ Plotting now._ Came the cold voice of Annunciata, a former Navigator for Repliforce. She was performing the same duty for them, now. Kyle keyed his datapad to the tactical plot, and nodded.

"All Demons, Demon Leader. Execute plan Shiva. I say again, Shiva is now in effect." Moving with choreographed ease, two other teams, Demon Two and Three, began to move. Kyle led Demon One out, as they took a course that would let them intercept Target Alpha.

"Time to earn our pay," One of his soldiers joked quietly with Sweet, who smiled, amused. "From those without the testicles to pick up a gun themselves."

"Don't diss our employers, Tariku." Sweet replied easily, as they began to move out. "Without their money, your guns would be as small as their testicles."

"Ouch!" There were several soft chuckles, and then they got down to the business of destroying the Mavericks that raided one of Minnow Arms storage facilities. Minnow was their primary employer. There was a law against forming militias, and underground organizations like Red Alert were semi-legal at best, but companies could sponsor units like theirs for self-defense. For most companies, the expense was prohibitive. Minnow was an exception. They produced a wide variety of civilian and military hardware, so outfitting their little mercenary company had been cheaper for them. And they were totally pissed about losing all kinds of facilities to Maverick attacks. The Hunters tried to help, especially with military-grade manufacturing plants, but they had a lot of commitments on their hands.

Right now, they were ambushing the Mavericks who had chosen to raid a large Minnow supply depot. It had been on the outskirts of a small city, and the attack had been strictly a smash and grab. The Hunters had repulsed them from the city, but didn't seem to care how many arms the Mavericks had gotten away with… or that the forces they had destroyed had been deliberately sacrificed, to cover the retreat of the ones carrying the weapons. If Kyle was willing to be honest, he would have to admit that the Hunters probably did care… they were just too hard pressed to hunt the Mavericks further. But he wasn't willing to be charitable, and neither was the board of directors for Minnow Arms. Some of the youngsters Kyle had trained had been in place at the depot, and they'd quite cleverly followed their orders in the case of an overwhelming attack… they'd managed to hide, lay low, then carefully follow the Mavericks as they escaped. Sahara and Nike were both up for some serious bonuses, if they survived.

The Mavericks had stopped to deal with something… the scouts hadn't been sure what. But it had provided them with an excellent opportunity, and they had made use of it by mining the most likely paths the Mavericks would use to leave. Then they'd noticed that the Mavericks seemed to be splitting into two groups. The sheer volume of weapons that they had taken couldn't be teleported, and only a fool would use a shuttle still in Hunter territory. So, presumably, they were going to split the weapons and take them to different groups of Mavericks. So now, Demon Two and Demon Three were going after Target Beta, while Demon One was going to take on Target Alpha.

A shocking explosion rang out as Target Beta hit the mines. A moment later, unable to stop in time, Target Alpha hit the mines. There were screams, clouds of smoke and fire, chaos… before the Demons opened fire.

Surprise was total, and the first few moments were a massacre. Then the Maverick resistance stiffened, using the crippled transports as cover for their own fire. Kyle smiled viciously as he sent a Maverick reeling from a careful shot. He'd anticipated that tactic, and come prepared. He touched a particular button on his PDA.

Low flying drones buzzed past their positions, over flying the Mavericks. The Mavericks managed to shoot down most of them, which exploded into fragments. But several made it through, and dropped plasma grenades on the enemies. There were more screams, and for a moment the Maverick fire almost ceased.

"Rush them! Rush them now!" Kyle commanded, and led the charge, his own beam saber out and ready.

They suffered their worst casualties in the final charge. Like a wolf brought to bay, the Mavericks turned on their enemies, intent on not going down alone. Perhaps ten of Kyle's command perished in the final push… but no Mavericks survived.

Kyle grimaced, and keyed his communicator. "Demon Two, begin gathering the bodies." They were not leaving their dead behind. "Demon Three, get the transports." Several teleport beams activated. "Demon One, begin gathering the items." He wasn't certain how much of the cargo had survived, but it would be quite a bit. Weapons and armor were naturally built to be durable. They had brought transports to take what items they could. "Claymore, Fantasy, recover the mines." They had mined several different pathways, and many hadn't been triggered. Fortunately, they could remotely disable the mines and gather them up easily. Leaving them behind would have been very irresponsible.

"Sweet?" He frowned. She was kneeling beside a body, her face in her hands… he walked over, and took a deep breath as he recognized the dead soldier. Bitter had been shot in the chest, tearing through the hard titanium and detonating his generator. The secondary explosion had torn him apart. "Sweet."

"It was my fault," he could barely hear her, even when he kneeled beside her. "My fault. I never should have told him about the opportunity… I knew he was stupid, I knew…"

"Sweet." Kyle rested a hand on her shoulder and she looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "This is not your fault. He died well." Bitter had followed his orders to the letter… but there were always casualties, in the end.

"I… I know he did." Sweet whispered, closing her eyes in pain. "But it hurts so much…" Kyle watched her, as she regained control of her emotions. "Sir… what should I do?"

"Begin gathering the items," Kyle said gently. He would have given her time off if he had thought it would do an ounce of good. But Sweet would do better if she had a task to take her mind off her grief.

"Yes, sir." She slowly stood, and went to help with the loading.

In the end, they gathered up almost half of the weapons and armor that had been stolen from the Minnow Arms depot. Kyle smiled thinly, satisfied. They had just paid for their own existence, and the board of directors would be pleased.

But before he went, there was something to do.

"All Demons, Demon Leader." Kyle announced himself, and everyone paused to listen. "Good work, all of you. We'll all be getting Christmas bonuses this year." There was a titter of laughter from somewhere. He ignored it. "Sahara, Nike, you're up for commendations and performance bonuses. Well done." Shadowing the Mavericks had been a difficult task. He could see both of them from where he stood, and they were both pleased and proud.

_And they have reason to be,_ Kyle thought, almost fondly. _This is a wonderful little team I have. We'll make the Hunters jealous, someday._ He was looking forward to that.

"All Demons, convoy positions. Let's move out." On foot and hoverbikes, with the lumbering transports in the centre, they began the trip home…


	2. A sunset in Texas

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The young Reploid said, regarding the sunset. She was tall and beautiful, with soft brown hair and an open, friendly face. Her armor was dark brown and styled to look vaguely like riding leathers. Over it, she wore a beaded and tasseled leather vest.

"Mmm, it is." Her companion nodded, also looking at the sunset. He was a masculine version of her design, but where she was pretty, he was craggy. He was wearing a similar vest, and a cowboy hat. Beside him was a large, mix-breed dog, panting brainlessly and looking at him adoringly.

The sunset was beautiful, in a terrible way. Glorious streaks of yellow, vibrant red and orange. It was only the second year since the Elysian incident, and the worst was over. The first year had almost been a nuclear winter. The second year, things had gotten a bit better. The Earth was greening again, and it was their duty to help feed everyone, human and Reploid both. A team of five Reploids designed for the task, they were charged with watching a very large herd of cattle in the pastureland in Texas.

"Thank goodness for that feed substitute, or none of the cattle would have survived." She murmured, turning to look at the cattle grazing calmly on the grass. Her companion barked a sharp laugh.

"The cattle, Mercedes? That algae based food sub saved the people." Humans could eat it too, although they hated it. With a bit of fortification, though, they could survive.

"And why should I care about people, Rusty?" She asked, and he turned to look at her, surprised by the bitterness in her voice. "People made me to look after stupid cattle all day. I hate people!"

"That's Maverick talk, Mercedes," Rusty said, warning in his voice. "And if you hate it here so much, why don't you just up and go?" Her contract had run out a year ago, and she was a free agent.

"You know bloody well why," Mercedes said resentfully. "The only skill I have is rustling cows. What good would that be if I went to Dallas? I'd end up slinging burgers in McDonalds." Rusty's patience, never long, promptly ran out. He loved his place as a cattle driver, loved everything about it, and didn't appreciate her complaints.

"You're a bloody whiner, Mercedes," he said flatly, making her flush with anger and glare at him. "We can't all be made just knowin' everything. If you want to get up in the world, start savin' your money instead of buyin' jewelry all the time, and get into school. Or sling those burgers until you get to be a manager."

"Yeah? Well, if you think that little of me, I think I'll be finding someone else to sleep with!" She retorted, making the dog flatten himself and whine, giving them both an imploring look. He didn't like it when people fought around him.

"Reckon you should go do that," Rusty said grimly. "I can't stand whiners." Giving him a look that could have scorched titanium, she stalked off to where the other members of the cattle brigade were starting a fire. Rusty sighed, and looked down at his dog. "Women. Why can't they all be as pretty inside as they are outside, dog? The world'd be a nicer place. Or easier, anyway." Dog licked his hand. "Good dog." Rusty turned to watch the last of the sunset, his dog by his side.

This was all he needed in the world.


	3. Lady Death and Carrion

She stood in the doorway of a rundown little house, in the bad part of town. The sun had set hours ago, and as she leaned against the light brown wood, fools called invitations to her from the sidewalk. She ignored them, the mind behind her hazel eyes a thousand miles away.

She had blond hair, straight from a bottle, and it brushed her shoulders as she moved. The face it framed was pretty in a young and pixie-like way, with a broad forehead, a pointed chin and a snub nose. She was almost twenty-three, but was still being constantly carded in bars. Right now, she was wearing a fine black leather jacket that creaked softly as she shifted. Her body was very slender and athletic, and her black jeans showed off her long, shapely legs.

To those who knew her not at all, her name was currently Kathleen Willis. To those who knew her much better, she was Lady Death and her life had been one long act of carefully choreographed violence. She had been born to a street whore, and to judge from her looks, her father was her mother's pimp. She had made her first kill at the age of ten. At fourteen, she found a mentor, an old soldier gone to drink. She had dragged him out and dried him off long enough to learn the basics of her trade, and dropped him into the gutter again. Then she had gone on to become one of the world's most wanted assassins. Only a very select group knew precisely how many kills could be laid at her door.

Most of the world knew nothing about Lady Death, not even if she was a human or a Reploid. Many insisted she had to be a Reploid, since she was notorious for being able to take out the hardest Reploid targets. Others insisted she must be human, since she had spurned several offers by the Mavericks for the heads of Megaman X or Zero. Some said that was mere pragmatism. Even Lady Death might have trouble with the greatest Hunters in the world.

Her head lifted and her eyes focused as she saw one of the very few people who knew her in both worlds. The respectable one, where she often changed names, and the shadowy one where she hunted and killed. He was her partner, and she would have trusted him with her knife… until lately.

She regarded him calmly, as he walked up the path. His name was Carrion, and his hair gleamed black in the dim light of the streetlamps. He was a Reploid, made to be a powerful combat model. He'd served his time, then left without a word to pursue his own ends. They had been partnered together by a client, for a mission that required more than one assassin. The result had been quite pleasant for both of them, and they had decided to extend the relationship.

Lady Death considered it one of the grand ironies of life that Carrion was almost the ideal of male physical beauty. His face was glorious, with sculpted features, a firm jaw, chiseled lips, and deep, thoughtful grey eyes. Under the armor, his body was just as beautiful… and as externally sexless as a Barbie doll. It made her wonder what his creator had been thinking. Women and men, Reploid and human both, had hit on him and left disappointed, with no idea why. She suspected that had a lot to do with why Carrion had chosen the solitary life of an assassin. That and the fact that one of the few joys he found in life was the excitement of making a kill.

Lady Death was a bit different. She didn't enjoy killing. She felt nothing, nothing at all, an empty static filled place where most people found hesitation and doubt. In that empty place, she killed and killed again and it meant nothing at all.

"Carrion," she said softly, her voice low and husky. The look he gave her was not the calm, cool detachment he usually showed to the world. No, there was something ugly lurking there, contained but dangerous. "Come to the kitchen. I've made casserole." That was his favorite meal. After a moment, the ugliness seemed to soften for a moment. He grunted, then stepped past her as she stepped out of the way.

This past week, Carrion's attitude to her had been changing. If they had been lovers, she would have suspected he had found a new woman and was trying to justify leaving her. But that obviously couldn't be it, and Lady Death had a different theory. Sometimes, the Maverick Virus could be insidious, hiding even from the infected Reploid as it waited for the best time to burst forth. Rare, but it happened. As Carrion walked down the hall, she slid a hand into her coat, caressing her gun.

A loud buzzer went off as he stepped through the kitchen door, and Carrion started… then snarled as he spotted the equipment that had been set up to monitor the door. Very expensive equipment, set to detect the Maverick Virus. He jerked around and lunged at her, but it was too late. Without his armor, he was hideously vulnerable, and her first shot shattered his abdomen. The second took out his left arm, where he could have still formed his buster. Carrion collapsed in a bloody heap, coughing and gagging on the blood in his throat.

Lady Death watched her partner, dying, and felt an unaccustomed pang of grief. She felt no regret for what she had done… he had to die… but she would miss him.

"You know, Lady Death… I always wondered." Carrion said, coughing. She tilted her head to one side, expression mildly curious. "Who was best."

"This was hardly a fair test," she felt obliged to point out. "I was ready, and you didn't suspect."

"But I… should have." He breathed, his eyes beginning to glaze over. "Should have known… I couldn't fool you… long."

"Do you know how you caught it?" She asked softly. Lady Death was very curious about that. If she could, she would take vengeance on whoever had inflicted the virus on Carrion.

"I think… that Maverick we killed… last month. Sometimes… casual contact… is enough." Carrion said, his voice slurring. Lady Death nodded, and watched as his fusion generator shut down. She would have knelt beside him, taken his hand, but she knew better. Even dying, Carrion could have hurt her if she'd been close at hand and he had mustered all his strength.

She finally sighed, and dropped her gun. Then she walked over to the phone, remembering the carefully rehearsed act she planned to put on. Carrion would have laughed, as she spoke to the police in a quavering voice and even worked up some crocodile tears. Lady Death was more than a little disgusted at herself. She hated playing the police, but there was no good way to remove the body from the middle of town. Better to play the distressed girl, since the evidence would all be in her favor. The virus would be obvious to any scan, and there were no penalties for terminating Mavericks.

Later, she would mourn her partner in her own way. Then she would go on.


	4. Forgotten

Caedmon regarded himself in the mirror, and wondered for perhaps the one thousandth time what his creators had been thinking.

Actually, he knew what they had been thinking, or rather hadn't been thinking. He was a generic combat unit created for the Hunters. He might as well have had 'cannon fodder' tattooed across his forehead and be done with it. Not the sort of Reploid anyone at his parent company would spend any time personalizing. Not the kind of Reploid they would waste any thought on.

And so they hadn't. His hair was light brown, framing a face that was simply… average. Brown eyes set in a face that was unexceptional in any way, good or bad. Not ugly, no, but he would almost have preferred that. At least then, people might remember his name. His body was average, too. Not too small, not too big, compact and light. His armor was light green and about as generic as it came. Even his personality was average. Not particularly witty, funny, or smart, he was painfully shy and awkward in social gatherings. His combat skills were also average. Not particularly fast or slow, strong or weak, just… average.

The only thing he excelled at was surviving. But it was a shameful gift. He'd wondered, more than once, why he always seemed to be the one to scrape free of the worst situations. So many people who were better, faster, stronger and with more to live for perished while he just kept going on. People with family and friends. Caedmon had been made just a year after X had been discovered, and he was probably the oldest Reploid in the building besides X and Zero. What had spared him? Dumb luck?

But maybe he was doing himself a disservice. Part of the reason he always seemed to make it was that he never lost his head, and always seemed to know exactly what to do when the shit hit the fan. Caedmon sometimes felt those qualities should have led to some kind of promotion, but it had never happened. It never would happen. He was just too forgettable, even for his commanding officers. He was glumly certain that no one would miss him if he disappeared tomorrow. Not until he missed a patrol, anyway.

Resigned to another day of complete obscurity, Caedmon left his room. It was Christmas Eve, and surely something interesting was going on.

But, to his puzzlement, there was no one around. He'd been in Hunter HQ for over twenty years, and he'd never seen it this dead on a Christmas Eve before. Usually there would be something to cheer him up, like Zero getting chased up a chandelier by a furious girl dressed almost entirely in whipped cream. Caedmon had never gotten the entire story behind that, but he'd had fun laughing and pointing. And then he'd gone to watch the hockey game on the outdoor rink several people had lovingly created. They had already made up teams and he hadn't been able to participate, but that was fine. Just watching had been enough to make him feel like he was part of the fun.

But now, there was no one. The HQ was almost deserted, except for a skeleton crew that was obviously keeping the minimal safety requirements going. Caedmon almost asked them where everyone was, then thought better of it. The one time no one envied the mostly human 16'th heavy artillery unit was during the holidays. A good half of their unit had to stay on duty at all times, to provide the proper deterrent to Maverick attacks. As a result, they could be more than a little cranky this time of year. Caedmon wasn't going to invite open mockery if he could help it.

Finally giving up, Caedmon went back to his room. He plugged in his kettle, and fixed himself a mug of coco. Drinking hot chocolate was a Christmas tradition. Somehow, though, it didn't taste as good sitting by himself in his room.

Trying to cheer himself up a little, Caedmon pulled out the small bag of presents he had bought, and got down to the serious business of wrapping them. Caedmon always put serious effort into picking out gifts, since he didn't buy very many. For X, he'd gotten a gift basket made with an assortment of his favorite cookies. They'd all been done up festively with red, white and green icing, and stuck on sticks to make a cute little display. That went in a gift bag… wrapping would have been impossible. For Zero, he'd found a stapler that was shaped like a shark. He was addressing that from Santa, since normally he wouldn't have gotten Zero something, and didn't want to look like a complete suck up. But the shark had just screamed 'Zero!' when he'd seen it, especially considering the red Hunter's attitude towards paperwork. Caedmon was sure it would be getting a laugh. A brand new laser scalpel for Lifesaver, as a thank you for the work he'd put into upgrading his buster last summer. Some gourmet coffee for all the Navigators, which would be much appreciated.

Caedmon hesitated over the last gift, chewing his lip. It was for Cinnamon, and he suspected it was a bad idea. The few times he'd dared give a gift to a lady he admired, the reaction had been the same… a short pause, an awkward smile and a quiet thank-you. If he was lucky, that was the end of it. If he was unlucky, there would be an even more awkward conversation a day or two later about how he was like a brother. Caedmon always hated that conversation. The smile was enough to give him the message. But with Cinnamon, he had a bit of a cover… she had helped fix him up, the last time he'd been injured. So maybe it would be better this time. He finished wrapping it, then stuck a tiny bow on the tiny gift.

Gathering them all up, he carried the gifts out of his room. There was a Christmas tree set up in the training room, and everyone would be gathering there tomorrow to open the gifts. Caedmon usually didn't receive anything… there was no one he liked well enough in his unit to get gifts for, except for X, and they felt the same way about him when they thought about him at all… but he liked watching other people open his gifts. In fact, he much preferred seeing other people enjoying presents than getting things himself. Being in the spotlight always made him too shy to sound properly thankful, and no one knew what he liked anyway.

He had placed the gifts under the tree, and was admiring the ornaments when he heard voices from the hallway.

"…Great party!"

"Yeah, going to Hyde Park was the best idea ever!" Caedmon stiffened, then tried to relax as the Hunters entered the training room. He didn't know any of them… they were from the 0'th unit. He moved politely to the side, so they could put their own gifts under the tree.

He listened to their conversation with a sick feeling. The usual Christmas festivities had been moved to Hyde Park, and it sounded like they had had a wonderful time. Not just hockey, this year there had been tobogganing, a snowman contest, a snowball war…

Caedmon quietly slipped out of the room, wondering how this could have happened. No one had told him. No one had mentioned a word… he'd heard people discussing the activities, sure, but he'd assumed it would be in Hunter HQ as usual. Of course he hadn't asked… he'd been here over twenty years and it had never changed. How had they let everyone know? Why hadn't he been invited?

His shock turned into something much bleaker and darker as he considered what must have happened. He had been forgotten. Maybe they had sent an e-mail, and his name had been left off. Maybe they had spread it by word of mouth, and he had been forgotten. He was certain there had been no personal malice to his exclusion, but that actually made things worse. If someone had deliberately kept him out of the loop, that would have been something he could stand against. What could he do about being forgotten?

Caedmon sat down on his bed, looking down as he considered what to do. His depression deepened as he thought about his life. It was probably stupid, getting this upset over a party, even a Christmas one, but it seemed symbolic for the rest of his life. The only valuable things he did were running patrols and not getting shot. What use was he? No one cared if he lived or died.

Caedmon considered that thought, wishing it wasn't true. But when he ran through the short list of people he really knew, he had to conclude it was so. The closest thing he had to a friend was X. They'd been closer, a long time ago, when X had been young and still uncertain of himself. Caedmon had been even newer, then, and more uncertain. But their paths had quickly diverged, and it was really sort of pathetic, a non-entity like himself trying to claim a friendship with X. Still, at least X would remember his name. Besides X, the only one he was sure would remember his name was Lifesaver. And if Caedmon killed himself, all he would care about would be the wasted parts.

Caedmon paused, as he realized what he had just thought. Was that what he was considering? Ending it all? Yes. He'd lost his joy in life so long ago, he could hardly remember ever having it. Maybe, if reincarnation did exist, he would have a better life next time.

Standing up, he glanced around his room. Should he leave a note? After a brief moment, he decided against it. He really had nothing to say. Explaining why he was doing this would sound really, really pathetic. On the other hand, if he just disappeared, they might not even realize he was dead. That would be for the best… it wasn't really anyone's fault that he had this problem. Not anyone still alive, anyway.

Caedmon accessed his teleporter system, finding an old set of coordinates. He'd saved them, a long time ago. The memories they were associated with were bitter, but it would still be a perfect spot for what he planned to do.

The spot he teleported to was very beautiful. A wooden bridge, over a deep, fast moving river, it was a perfect spot for moonlight trysts. As he had tried to use it for, once upon a time. Right now, though, what he was interested in was the waterfall nearby that could be clearly seen from the bridge. The sound of the rushing water was not too loud, but added a great deal to the ambience of the bridge. Caedmon, however, had another use for it.

Back in that long forgotten time, he'd heard that waterfalls sometimes had caves behind them. So he'd gone to see if this one did, and he hadn't been disappointed. The cavern was more than large enough for him to sit inside it, and he'd never found signs that anyone else knew about it. It would be a long time until his body was found there, if it ever was. He walked down the riverbank to the waterfall, then carefully scaled the wet rock to reach the cavern, settling inside.

Caedmon dispelled his armor, and took a deep breath, shivering as the cold spray from the waterfall hit him. He used his buster on patrol, but he also had a small gun he used as backup. That was what he would use for this. One shot to his fusion generator would do it.

Caedmon grunted in surprise and pain as his shot shredded his unarmored body… but his fusion generator did not explode. Warnings flashed across his mind, as his diagnostics tried to inform him of what had happened. He'd missed his generator? Completely? But that was the exact place he aimed for with Mavericks and if the armor broke they always exploded… Gods, it _hurt_, it should have been over too fast to hurt like this…

More warning shot across his mind as he started hyperventilating, his body trying desperately to make up for the loss of coolant. The pain was sharp, biting, but soon it began to go numb as his diagnostics informed him he was shutting down… going into safety mode. That wasn't right… he wanted to be sure. He fumbled with the gun, but his fingers were too numb to feel it and his arm was too weak to lift it again. Soon, he couldn't feel his body at all, as everything was shut down in favor of preserving his vital functions.

Caedmon was still wondering how he could have missed his fusion generator when his generator went into safety mode, and awareness went away…

* * *

"Rar!" Zero menaced X with his brand new stapler, making him laugh. "See? I told you someday Santa would bring me something besides coal!"

"Can I have your coal?" Axl asked, hand inching towards the sugar confection that went by that name. Zero slapped his hand away with a grin.

"Hands off, brat!" Almost all the Hunters in the HQ were in the training room. It was the only place big enough to handle such a crowd, and some serious work had gone into decorating it. Tables had been set up against a table, with snacks, punch and a place to set down gifts. There weren't any chairs, but that was fine… there were always the mats to sit on, if a person felt the need.

Right now, X, Zero, Axl, Alia, Cinnamon and Marino were using the mats, arrayed in a semi-circle and opening their gifts.

"Zero… this is just a touch inappropriate, don't you think?" Marino said dryly as she pulled out a silken teddy. "Although I admit, the color is nice." It was a green that almost perfectly matched her hair.

"I saw the color and I couldn't resist thinking of you," Zero said with a grin, which mollified Marino a bit. So did Cinnamon's awe.

"That's wonderful Marino, I want to see you wear that!" The cute little medic opened a gift of her own. "Ohh… what's in this?" It was a red velvet bag. She opened it up, and beamed. "Axl… thank you so much!" She threw her arms around the startled Hunter and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"H-Huh? I didn't get you that…" Axl said, confused, and Zero smacked his forehead as Cinnamon drew back, surprised.

"Well, then you shouldn't have admitted it!" He chided Axl, as Cinnamon looked at the gift again. The red velvet bag had held a delicate silver charm bracelet, with hearts dangling from it. Each heart had a different texture, and several were set with red and white rhinestones. On the bag, though, there was a little tag…

"Oh… it's from Caedmon?" Cinnamon said, utterly confused. "Who's Caedmon?"

"Erm… he's a member of my unit." X frowned. "You don't know him?" That seemed odd, and a bit strange. Cinnamon looked uncertain.

"I don't know… could you point him out?" That would certainly help. X smiled, relaxing a little.

"Sure, no problem!" He stood up, looked over the room… and blinked. "That's funny. He's not here." X frowned. He could vaguely remember seeing Caedmon just hanging around every year, drinking punch. Zero jumped in. He didn't know Caedmon at all, personally, but he had a knack for matching names to faces.

"Well, Cinny, he looks like this." Zero painted a brief verbal portrait of the missing Hunter, and Cinnamon brightened.

"Oh, I do know him! I helped Lifesaver fix him up last time. He must be saying thank-you!" She laughed softly, touching the hearts. "Marino, could you help me put it on?" Even if it wasn't from Axl, she liked the bracelet immensely.

"X? Aren't you going to open your stuff?" Axl asked X, tilting his head to one side. The blue Hunter was still scanning the room, searching for familiar green armor.

"Huh? Oh, yes…" X sat back down. Caedmon could have left the room for any number of reasons. He was probably just off doing something. Still… something about him not being here seemed wrong. Alia watched him for a moment, as he opened a gift with a distracted air, then smiled, her eyes twinkling.

"Why don't we just get Layer to find him, X, if you're worried?" She suggested. Her fellow Navigator was stuck working today, although Palette would be taking over for her soon. X looked up, surprised, then gave her a relieved smile.

"Thanks, Alia. I'm probably just being a worry-wart… but something about him not being here is bothering me."

"The fact that he's an institution." Zero put in. "The guy is older than most of the buildings in the HQ."

"You know, Zero, the same could be said about you," X said dryly as Alia contacted Layer. "And me, for that matter."

"Yeah, but at least we've changed with the times. His only talent is not getting shot." Zero said with a shrug, garnering glares not just from X, but from Cinnamon as well.

"He's changed with the times! Lifesaver upgraded his buster just a few months ago!" Cinnamon protested. "Don't be nasty, Zero." Zero raised his hands with a grin.

"Okay, okay! I know when I'm beat." X ignored the two of them, seeing a small frown on Alia's face.

"He's not in Hunter HQ." She said, lifting her gaze to X's face. "We're starting a wider search."

"He left HQ at Christmas?" Axl said wonderingly. "Does he have family?" Plenty of Hunters had left, mostly to go home to various odd little family situations.

"No," X said, feeling more troubled by the moment. "He was made by Mitiga corporation, before they went out of business, and brought directly into the Hunters as soon as he left the factory." At Axl's surprised expression, he added, "That was before Reploid rights legislation was passed." Now, a certain period was mandated for a new Reploid to adjust, before they were sent to their placement. And all Reploids had a contract, which governed how long they would work for the company or organization that had commissioned them, before they became free agents. In Caedmon's time, none of that had existed.

"We can't find him," Alia announced. "Layer is trying his communicator." A pause. "She says they have ping." X tensed slightly. Ping wasn't good. It meant the communicator was responding automatically, although…

"He probably just took off his armor, X. Or turned off the communicator. You get ping from me all the time," Zero pointed out, and Alia gave him a whimsical smile.

"Yes, we do, and we all curse you for it," she observed, making Axl laugh.

"Try to raise his emergency beacon." X said harshly, making everyone look at him, startled.

"You don't think so," Zero said uncertainly. The emergency beacon only came on if a Reploid was in safety mode or deactivated. Basically, when a Reploid was badly injured, there were three possible outcomes. The first, when the generator went critical and exploded, left no emergency beacon to signal. The second, when the generator was damaged so it went into a slow melt down, left the beacon intact but the Reploid itself was unrevivable. The last was safety mode. When a Reploid was badly injured but the generator was mostly unaffected, they went into a kind of stasis where the generator went onto low power, attempting to just keep minimal power running to the neural net. Reploids with that kind of damage were often revivable.

"Layer's trying for the beacon." There was a pause, and Alia's expression turned grim. "She has the beacon. Co-ordinates…" She rattled off the numbers, and X pushed himself up.

"I'm going too," Zero said, also standing up. He had no idea what could have happened, but he wasn't letting X go out alone.

"Me too, me too!" Axl hopped up, grinning. If there was action to be had, he wanted to be in on it.

"Alright." The three of them teleported to a spot near the co-ordinates Layer had given them, scaring the daylights out of a young couple standing on the bridge nearby. X frowned, orienting himself… and blinked.

"The signal is coming from the waterfall?" He said, surprised, then shook his head. "Strange…" He hesitated, then crawled across the limestone shelf. There was no room for more than one person, and Zero frowned as Axl fidgeted.

"Careful, X. It might be a trap." X waved with one hand, showing that he had heard, but didn't slow his search. He vanished behind the waterfall, and Zero tensed.

But a moment later, X slid back out, trying to maintain his balance as he carried a limp body. Axl hissed, and Zero's eyes narrowed as he saw that the body was unarmored and the wound was in his lower chest. A tremendous, gaping wound, obviously caused by a powerful firearm shot point blank.

"What happened…?" Axl said, stunned, and X looked at them both, his eyes dark and expression grim.

"His gun was on the ground beside his body." X said quietly, and Zero looked grim as Axl looked sick.

"He killed himself…? Why?" Axl asked, and X shook his head.

"I don't know." He hated having to admit that, but he really had no idea. His clearest memories of Caedmon were of him as a young rookie. They had both been rookies, actually… they had even shared some classes. He remembered Caedmon as a shy but friendly kid, with a desperate need to be liked. X didn't know anything about the quiet, self-contained Hunter he had become, and that bothered him. Caedmon was in his unit, and he should know at least a bit about all his Hunters.

"Well, let's get him back to HQ." Zero said practically. From the location of the wound, he was fairly sure they would find that Caedmon's fusion generator had melted down. But they had to take him to the repair bay for a check anyway.

"Right." An emergency teleport to the repair bay brought them to Lifesaver. His gifts were customarily delivered to his room, for him to go through later. He preferred his work to parties. Soon, Caedmon had been scanned… then hooked to life support.

"He's alive?" X said, utterly disbelieving. "Didn't he mean to kill himself? Or did he mean to live...?" With a handgun at point blank range, it was almost impossible to believe that Caedmon had missed his generator entirely. Unless the whole suicide was actually a ploy for attention. But Lifesaver shook his head.

"No, this was definitely a serious attempt. You see the location of the injury?" X winced. He really didn't want to. It wasn't a pretty thing. "That blast would have killed most current Reploids, including you and Zero. But Caedmon is a rather peculiar model, the Alpha 327. It's discontinued now, of course, but the generator sits higher up in his rib cage. But Caedmon didn't realize that, and struck where he would have on a Maverick. So instead of blowing up, he missed and went into safety mode." X nodded, looking down at the body and chewing his lip.

"But why?" X asked the world. "Why would he do it?" Lifesaver shrugged.

"Why don't you ask around?" He suggested, and X nodded… that was a good idea.

He went back to the party, and started doing that. There was no point in hiding what Caedmon had done… it would be all over the HQ anyway. Zero and Axl went back to enjoying the party, but X tried to gain information about Caedmon.

He quickly came to the amazing conclusion that he probably knew the other Hunter best. Most of the rest of the unit couldn't even remember his name… X had to describe him before they remembered him, and then he was just the guy in green. The few who knew him immediately had nothing much to say about him.

"Well, what have you found out?" Zero asked him a bit later, and X sighed in frustration.

"I can't find anyone who knows more about him than I do. In fact, most of them know a lot less." That just blew his mind. Zero lifted an eyebrow, then shrugged.

"Well, what did you know about him? What was he like as a rookie?" Zero asked, and X frowned, trying to remember. It had been so long ago, but…

"He was nice, but really needy at first. Sort of like a puppy running after my heels at first… then he stopped." X flushed. "Actually, I made him stop." He remembered speaking sharply to Caedmon once. The rookie had still been friendly, but a little distant, after that. Afraid of being hurt? "He was awfully clumsy."

"Clumsy?" Zero's tone was oddly sharp, and X blinked at him. "What makes you say that?"

"He was always bruised, when he came to practice." X said, tilting his head. "We shared the unarmed course, although he was behind me in the other courses. Sometimes the bruises were pretty bad… even a few dents. Why?" He didn't see why that would be significant. Zero hesitated a moment, then shrugged.

"X, you know I do rookie training sometimes, right?" It was a job he hated, but did well. X cautiously nodded. "When I see a rookie who's always bruised and 'clumsy', I start thinking maybe something else is going down. Like maybe some of the other rookies are beating the crap out of him. I'm usually right, too." X looked troubled, then shook his head.

"That was so long ago… how could that have anything to do with what he did now?" Caedmon had no reputation for clumsiness now. Zero frowned, then shrugged.

"I don't know… but if no one noticed, it might have gone on for a long time. That sort of thing can screw kids up. Still, it was probably something else. Although the problems when he was a rookie might sort of be a subtext. Ya know?"

"Not really, but I'll take your word for it." X sighed. "We won't know until they finish fixing him." That would be a few days at best. Zero shrugged, then slapped him on the back.

"Well, forget about it then. Come enjoy the party." This was their last day of liberty, before they started patrols again. Not even Mavericks launched attacks during Christmas… they were too busy with their own parties. Zero suspected Sigma despised it, but had to make a few concessions to keep the troops happy. The weird Christmas cease-fire had lasted for almost twenty years, and seemed to have become a tradition. X nodded, and went to get a glass of punch.

There was no point in worrying about Caedmon's problems until he woke up.

* * *

Caedmon didn't know what to expect of the afterlife. But he definitely didn't expect it to resemble the Hunter HQ repair bay… and if Lifesaver was an angel…

"There is no god." Caedmon muttered, trying to focus. His whole body was a bit off… and he bit back a groan as he recognized the sensation. He'd felt like this before, after major repairs.

"Caedmon?" A very familiar voice spoke from his right side, and he almost flinched, then steadied himself.

"Commander X?" Caedmon pushed himself up, wincing in pain, then flushed lightly as a hand on his shoulder steadied him. It was embarrassing… why was X wasting time on him? Oh. Because he had tried to kill himself, of course. "Can I help you?" Well, that sounded nicely idiotic. X gave him a strange look.

"I think it's more if I can help you," X said gently. "Caedmon, why did you do that?" He flinched, and looked down at the lab table he was sitting on, refusing to answer. He heard a soft sigh, then X was pulling him to his feet.

"Let's go talk about this in private." He said firmly, and Caedmon wanted to pull away, but… X was his commander. And he really didn't want to talk out in public, if he had to talk at all.

X led him to through the halls, to his own room, and Caedmon was acutely aware of the looks he was attracting. People were noticing him now, but it was the last kind of attention he wanted. He'd gone out of his way to disappear quietly so he never would get this kind of attention.

"Sit," X said, kindly but firmly. Caedmon gingerly sat down on a chair, as X sat on the sofa. He glanced around curiously… he'd never seen X's room before. It was very neat, and bigger than his own. It also had more style, although that wasn't difficult… the decorations in his own room were whatever had caught his eye at the local craft fairs. X had some very beautiful paintings, peaceful nature scenes. "Now… Caedmon, what's bothering you?"

"I…" He closed his eyes, and swallowed hard. This was going to sound retarded. "I didn't know about the stuff on Christmas Eve." X sat back, puzzled and disbelieving.

"We always have activities on Christmas Eve… you mean you didn't know it was in Hyde Park?" X asked, and Caedmon nodded. "The planning committee sent an e-mail to everyone in HQ. You didn't get it?"

"No." He checked his e-mail every day, so he knew he'd somehow been left off the mailing list. X hesitated, then sighed.

"Caedmon, I know missing Christmas Eve is disappointing, but killing yourself is a little extreme." No matter how disappointed he was, that was going a bit far. Caedmon glanced up, then down at his hands, folded in his lap.

"S'not just that," he muttered, staring at his hands. "It's… no one noticed I wasn't there. No one ever notices. You can't know what it's like," his voice gained some more animation, and X listened attentively, trying to project sympathy. "When you talk to someone every day for months, and they still can't remember your name. Or when you try to… to talk to a girl, and you might as well be a bug on the wall for all they notice. It sucks, X. It just totally sucks." X blinked, surprised by the depth of bitterness in his voice. "And my career is just… I'm nothing. I'll never be anything. What's the point?"

"That's not true!" X said, stunned. How could he think he had done nothing? While Caedmon was being repaired, X had gone over his records, and they had been impressive. "You have more Maverick kills than anyone in the building except me and Zero. You received medals for valor three times, you saved an entire busload of children…" The list of things he had managed to do went on. All the personnel evaluations noted how well Caedmon acted under pressure. He invariably made the right decision, which was a priceless gift. X tried not to think about what the rest of the evaluations had noted… his colorless personality and lack of any leadership skills.

"And it's gotten me so far," Caedmon said bitterly, raising his eyes to meet X's. "I never expected to be a hero, not like you. I was made to be cannon fodder… I must be the last of my type alive. But I wish I thought someone would care if I died." X was silent for a moment, then reached out to take his hand.

"Caedmon… if you want people to care about you, you have to reach out to them, too." X said compassionately, squeezing his hand. "You're doing this to yourself, at least in part." That silenced Caedmon for a moment. He knew X was right.

"…It's dangerous." He finally said, then winced, wishing he could take back the words. X tilted his head to one side.

"What is?" He asked, and Caedmon winced again. But it was too late to take it back, and the memories were welling up, old but still painful, unhealed wounds.

"Talking… to people. Opening up. Things can go bad." He said hopelessly, and X frowned slightly.

"Do you mean when you were a rookie?" He said, his voice neutral, and Caedmon's head jerked up. How had X known…?

"…Yes." He met X's eyes, and saw the warmth there, the compassion, and found himself going on. "It started when I tried to get to know a girl… I didn't know she was Vega's girlfriend, I swear I didn't. Do you remember him?" X thought for a moment, frowning, then shook his head. "He… organized some of the other rookies against me. When I met you and… and started following you around, I was desperate. They wouldn't touch me when you were there. Or Zero." X stared at him, horrified by the revelation, but not particularly surprised. Zero had been right.

"How long did this go on?" He asked softly, and Caedmon swallowed, looking down at his hands again.

"Until Vega died. Two years. I tried to fight them a few times, but I'm no Zero… that's when I 'fell down the stairs.'" X winced, remembering that incident. He'd been a little surprised someone could do so much damage to himself falling down steps, even a lot of steps. One of his arms had been so badly bent, it had needed to be replaced. "So I took it. I had to."

"Why didn't the rookie trainer step in? Didn't you tell her?" X hesitated as Caedmon gave him a blank look. "She knew?" He could hardly believe that, but… Caedmon nodded.

"She said… we really needed Hunters. Sigma had just gone Maverick, remember. So if it was a choice between losing me, or losing Vega and the other four, then… I'd have to go. Back to Mitsaga." Caedmon's face looked pinched, pale. "They would have recycled me. I couldn't… I had to take it. I just had to."

X examined Caedmon for a long moment, shocked at how deeply laid the seeds for his action were… and how deep the emotional scars were. He was uneasily aware that the first year of experience for a young Reploid made a very firm, definite imprint on their personality. Caedmon had spent his first years trying desperately not to be noticed. Had it become a habit? By now, it might not be breakable, no matter how much he wanted to. X felt sick as he remembered the desperate friendliness Caedmon had approached him with. Why hadn't he realized how desperate it really was? X shook his head. That was being unfair to himself. He'd been only a year older than Caedmon, and just as inexperienced. The real blame could be laid at the feet of the rookie trainer who'd allowed this to go on, even sanctioned it.

But that made no difference at all to Caedmon. X took a deep breath.

"Caedmon… I don't know if anyone can help you with that. But if you want to try, I can arrange some meetings with a good Reploid psychologist." Caedmon glanced up, surprised. "Hunter HQ will pick up the expense." That surprised him even more. That kind of treatment was very expensive, and never certain of success. But then Caedmon flushed, looking down.

"I don't want to look like a basketcase." He still had a firm aversion to looking pathetic. But X coughed, then spoke wryly.

"It's a bit late for that. You DID try to kill yourself, after all." That made Caedmon blush with embarrassment, since it was all too true. "Do you think you'd be willing to try the treatment?"

"…Yeah. I'll try it." Caedmon finally said, softly. He wasn't sure it would do any good… but he wanted to be more than he was. And most of all, he wanted people to remember him, and not just as the nutcase that had managed to miss his fusion generator at point blank range. He wanted to… have a life. "Thanks, X."

"It's nothing. I should have talked to you sooner." Caedmon stiffened in surprise as X suddenly gave him a hug. "Get better soon."

"I'll try." He would do the best he could do.


	5. Want Peace? Serenity? Try Wataponga

Midnight Wine smiled, watching his breath steam in the icy air as he briskly skied across the wonderland that was Wataponga in the winter.

Wataponga was a far northern village. Native American, by culture at least, the people here were as isolated as it was possible to be and still be on the same planet as everyone else. The village was right at the foot of Bear's Paw Mountain and right on the banks of the Ice Wine Lake. From what Midnight Wine had been able to discover, the lake was only a hundred years old… it had been artificially constructed, for some reason. But it was fed now by a river from the mountains, and filled with healthy fish. The village itself was pretty as a picture, little log cabins drawing power and heat from an industrial fusion generator in the centre of town. They survived by hunting the woods, catching fish, and sold handcrafts for the few things they needed outside the village. Years ago, that had meant taking a week long trip to the nearest town and being ripped off terribly on prices. But Midnight Wine had managed to finagle a teleporter for them, and gotten the humans living in Wataponga tested to see who could safely use it. Now, they were selling directly to trading posts across North America.

Midnight Wine was a former Hunter, and the first Reploid resident of Wataponga. He'd picked it almost at random as a place to settle, because of the similarity between his name and the name of the lake. At first, the villagers had been standoffish and distant. He couldn't really blame them… one of the attractions to Wataponga was that Sigma would probably come for it after he'd gotten the rest of the world, and not a moment sooner. So a Reploid hadn't exactly been welcome. But Midnight Wine had made a concerted effort to befriend them, and after the first few months they'd started to thaw. By now, he was an accepted member of the community. He even looked and sounded like he fit in. Among humans with names like Little Bear and Strawberry, Midnight was completely unremarkable.

Midnight had also acclimatized when it came to appearance. In the summer, he wore plain leathers hunting, and a set of beaded leathers for the monthly powwow. In winter, like now, he wore more modern clothing, along with everyone in the village. Although his was pure white… a warm white winter coat, white wool pants, boots, and a white scarf to protect his face. In summer, his long, thick hair was jet black, but in winter he dyed it a matching white. He looked like a wraith, skimming across the snow on silent skis. The only drop of color was the leather thong he used to tie back his mane of hair. Two leather disks hung from it, round and beaded in native patterns. The green, red, blue and black beads glittered as he moved his head, scanning the countryside.

Midnight himself was tall and thin. His face was even more youthful than most Reploids, and he looked perhaps thirteen, despite his height. His skin was pale as milk, and he was always ready with a brilliant smile. Large, almond shaped, dark blue eyes looked out at the world with wonder and joy.

The only mar on that joy was the circumstances that had led him to Wataponga. It hadn't been his fault he'd caught the Maverick Virus. It could happen to the best of them… but he knew he'd done something horrible under it. The glances and whispers would have told him that, even if they hadn't stripped him of his rank, his armor and weapons, and regretfully let him go. Midnight Wine was just thankful to be alive and sane. It was a miracle Zero hadn't killed him, and X had brought him back for them to try and purge the virus. By some freak occurrence, his neural net hadn't been fully corrupted, and with a whole lot of time and effort, he'd been freed of it.

That couldn't get him off scot-free, though. Whatever he'd done, it must have been really public and really bad… Midnight had decided not to ask. But even with the Virus as an excuse, the Hunters had been forced to remove him and render him harmless. He'd resented it at the time, but now he was just as glad. He was happy in Wataponga.

Smiling under his scarf, Midnight made his way up the mountain. He was carrying supplies to Meg. An old woman, she lived alone and far from the village by choice. Not a choice anyone understood, but one they respected. They ran her supplies maybe once a week, when the weather was nice and clear. Today was a perfect day for it. The sky overhead was pure blue, without a cloud to be seen. The air was crisp and cold, invigorating to him. The animals…

Midnight suddenly paused, old instincts and training singing a warning. He couldn't hear any animal noises. Midnight paused, tilting his head and sharpening his audio receptors. Even in the depths of winter, he should have been able to hear the scurrying sounds of a lively forest. He should be hearing birds, too. Not many stayed in the winter, but some did. But right now he heard-

Midnight's eyes narrowed as he picked up a grating, metallic sound. It was a good long ways away, and he couldn't tell what it was… but it didn't belong. And what didn't belong was his business. Maybe a company was doing drilling. Maybe it was a geological survey. But no matter what it was, the village elders would like to know. A little annoying, that strangers would come without giving the village a heads up…

Midnight set off again, angling towards the sound. It was up the mountain, too, but away from Meg's house. He frowned as he heard a voice… was someone shouting? They'd have to be, to reach him so far away. As he got closer, the words got clearer.

"…And you'll never stop me, Hunters!"

_Oh… unholy crap._ Midnight tensed, then doubled his speed. He didn't have his buster anymore, but slung over his back, under the backpack for Meg, was a civilian style plasma rifle. It had a low level setting that worked just fine hunting… and a high level setting that could kick the shit out of an unsuspecting Maverick. It looked like he'd just been called back to duty.

Midnight reached a clearing, and blinked. What in hell was that? A giant machine was sitting right in front of him. Midnight kicked off his skis, and hung his backpack on a tree branch, before he ventured closer.

From the sounds, the Hunters and the Maverick were on the other side of the machine. So he had an interesting advantage, if he could figure out what to do with it. Midnight Wine eyed the machine, wondering what it was for. Well, whatever the idea was, he'd do better from on top of it.

Even without his armor, Midnight was still a Reploid, and he kicked his way up the machine as quietly as possible. Some sort of debate seemed to be going on, as the Hunters tried to talk the Maverick down. Midnight recognized the voice, and frowned, wondering why Zero would bother. Trying to talk a Maverick out of it was more X's style.

"…start the avalanche!" Midnight suddenly paled as he realized what was really going on. His head whipped around, and he gazed up the mountain.

Bear's Paw Mountain wasn't big for avalanches. But thirty years ago, there had been an avalanche when some of the young folk had been damned stupid and decided to go racing on the mountain. That had wiped out almost an entire generation, and explained why the village was now so genetically diverse. It had been surprisingly easy for the elders to entice some nice young people to come live in the howling wilderness, but they hadn't been able to be picky about actual Native American descent. No avalanche had ever come close to threatening the town. But… there was a good lot of snow up there, and even an overhanging rock ledge. If this machine, whatever it was, could break that off…

Midnight began searching in earnest for a weak point in the machine. He had to reveal himself to do that… he crawled out onto the front, and gazed down. X and Zero were both there, and the Maverick was an animal type, fox style. He was standing right beside what had to be a controller for the machine. Midnight kept searching, and grinned as he found a weak point. The machine had obviously been put together from sections, and he could hear the classic hum of an industrial fusion generator past a crack in the outer casing. A wide enough crack to let in a plasma shot. He slid his plasma rifle off his back, glanced back at the scene… and met X's eyes. The blue Hunter had spotted the white apparition on the equipment, and was looking more than a touch confused. Midnight reached up, pulling down his scarf, and gave X a cocky grin. Then he pointed his rifle at the crack, and tilted his head in an interrogative gesture. He was startled when X firmly shook his head. Why would X not want him to…?

But before he could think about it, the situation abruptly went critical. The Maverick screamed something, and lunged at the control. Zero lunged at her… but Midnight had to make a split second decision and he didn't think Zero could make it.

Just before the Maverick could hit the button, his rifle sang its deadly song, and hot plasma hit an undefended fusion generator. Midnight felt a brief moment of triumph before his world exploded.

White hot pain assaulted him as his vision went mad. He felt like he was flying… he'd been blown right off the machine. His vision cleared just a little, and he saw bits and pieces of shredded metal, gouts of flame-

Then his body hit a tree with fantastic force. Metal screamed in protest and wood shattered, but Midnight was still conscious. He lifted his head-

And then a very large piece of the machine landed on him with a vile crunch.

Midnight embraced the oblivion of unconsciousness.

* * *

"Well… shit." Zero said, wearily, as he gazed down at the shattered body. "Poor bastard."

"Do you know who he is?" X swallowed hard, avoiding looking at the wreck. He'd seen plenty of dead bodies, but it never stopped affecting him.

The Reploid was unquestionably dead. He probably hadn't been when he'd hit the ground, and he'd lingered a bit after the metal had hit him… but by the time X and Zero had managed to lever it off him, they had heard the classic whine of a generator slowly melting down. X had checked, just to be sure, but the damage had been clear.

"X, do I look like a miracle worker? That thing landed on his face." Everything had been crushed and flattened. Even if the generator hadn't let go, there would probably have been damage to his neural net. "He doesn't even have any armor… hey, here's something." Zero kneeled down, hunting for a sparkle of gold. "He's wearing a ring. Looks like a wedding band." Zero gently tugged off the ring, and looked for an inscription. Wedding bands were typically inscribed with the initials of the participants. "What the… X, look at this." He passed the ring over to X, who tilted it up to take a look.

_15'th__ Unit Anwar Dam MW_. X stared at the cryptic inscription. He knew what it was referring to.

The Anwar Dam incident had gone down in the 15'th history, adding glory to one of the lesser known units. Five squads had gotten cut off during a battle, and found out about a Maverick plot to breach the Anwar Dam and flood most of the Nile delta. That would have been deadly immediately, with thousands of drowning deaths, and deadly later when the croplands were ruined. So those five squads, cut off and out of contact, had kited off to take care of the problem. With a combination of intelligence, cunning and sheer bravery, they'd defused the bombs and defeated the Mavericks at the dam. Of the five squads, only two had returned. Each of the survivors had received medals for bravery… and these rings.

"Midnight Wine," X said softly, and Zero nodded. "I didn't know he'd settled here." He remembered how Midnight Wine had left the Hunters, though.

It had been ghastly. Midnight Wine had caught the Maverick virus and been driven completely insane. Fortunately, he had resisted the infection with all his strength, so the Virus hadn't been able to use him to get information about Hunter HQ. It had only been able to madden him… which was bad enough, when he completely destroyed a block of buildings, including a school bus full of children. It hadn't been Midnight's fault, but that was hard to explain to a grieving mother of a dead eight year old. Or the parents of a child that would never walk again…

"You know, Z… it's sort of Karmic." Zero gave X a questioning look, and he nodded at the body. "Under the virus, he killed children. Now… he's saved them." There was a moment of silence, as they both thought about that. Then Zero turned to look at the village. It was clearly visible from where they were standing, down the mountain.

"…Yeah, you're right X." Zero turned back, and rested a hand on X's shoulder. "C'mon X. We should go tell the villagers what's happened, then get back to work." If Midnight Wine was living here, the villagers would know what to do. He wasn't a Hunter anymore, and it wasn't their right to take his body back to HQ. X took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Right, Zero." The two Hunters took off running down the mountain. Behind them, the wind gathered drifting snowflakes, dancing them across the shattered body they were leaving behind…


	6. A Day in the Life of a Logistics Expert

Emmanuel Lancaster was not a happy man.

Some people… the idiots… might have attributed that to the fact that he was a human running a Reploid refugee camp. Those who knew him a tiny bit better would attribute it to general hatred of all living things. They would be much closer to the truth.

Emmanuel, or Manny as his friends called him, was a logistics expert. In his opinion, his profession was the most essential and least appreciated in the known world. It was his job to carefully plan ahead, arranging the shipments of food, the electrical system, the chemical toilets… and deal with any problems as the came. And sure as death and taxes, there were always problems.

It was also part of his job to deal with complaints. And that was what had him quietly swearing. His assistant, a short, tiny Reploid girl in red and gold armor, her hair held up by gold barrettes, stepped out of the trailer they were using as a temporary HQ. She paused, watching her boss for a moment.

Manny was middle aged, with dark hair beginning to grow grey, and a small beer belly. He was still fairly good-looking, though, and was excellent company when he was relaxed and off-duty. Neither of which was true right now. She wished she could go right back into the trailer and let him work off steam by himself.

Alas, she had a job to do, and it was going to make his job harder. She squared her shoulders, and walked over. Manny quickly spotted her.

"Swift, do you know why I volunteered for this job?" He asked, as she fell in beside him obediently.

"You didn't want to organize the camp in Africa, boss?" Their choices had been a bit limited, and she was guessing this one had been the most attractive. But Manny shook his head.

"No, well, yeah, but that wasn't the main idea. I picked this one because it's a Reploid camp." Swift tilted her head in a questioning gesture. Being a listener for Manny's gripes was an unofficial part of her job description. Whenever it annoyed her, she just reminded herself that if he quit, she'd immediately be promoted to his position. That made her patient again. "I thought Reploids couldn't _possibly_ be as difficult as humans. All the complaints about the tents, the food, the water… the goddamn chemical toilets… Reploids just _had_ to be easier."

"You poor, innocent fool," Swift said sympathetically, and Manny grinned sourly.

"Tell me about it. These people are finding just as many ways to drive me nuts as the damned human camps. Jesus, if I get one more request to use the rechargers, someone's going to get this clipboard down their throat!" Manny sighed, writing another note on his clipboard. "We made Reploids, right? Why, why couldn't we have made them better?"

"Um. Well, I hate to make your day even more joyful, boss, but you mentioned the rechargers?" Manny shot Swift a suspicious glance. "3 and 8 are out. We're not sure why."

"Oh, Christ." The rechargers were meant to be used by the essential Reploid staff who were manning the camp… especially the Army types guarding it. Which was why the civilian Reploids inside the camp weren't allowed to use them. They had barely enough for just the essential personnel. If two of them were out… "Tell me we're getting the technicians soon."

"Sorry, boss. They're still at Camp 4. They won't get here until next week, unless we make a priority call." Manny cursed heartily. If they made a call, people would be peeved that he was pulling the techs away from other essential duties.

"Jesus." Manny drummed his fingers against the clipboard, then turned to look at the camp. "We'll have to do a cattle call. This is gonna be fun." A cattle call was when they made an announcement, searching for someone with the right skills to help out. It was never easy to do, and was usually held back as a last resort. But calling the techs ahead of schedule would screw things up even more.

"Right, boss. I'll go get it started." Swift quickly walked away, serene with the conviction that if anyone caught hell, it wouldn't be her.

There was something to be said for being an assistant.

* * *

"There you go, there you go!" The small Reploid scampered out. It wasn't humanoid at all, and looked like a half-human sized, armored mouse. But instead of paws, it had long, clever hands and a knack for dealing with recalcitrant machines. "They should be working now. Try them, try them!" The mouse sat up, grooming her whiskers with her paws/hands. Manny waved at Swift, who nodded and sent power to the recharger units.

The gentle hum of active, working units was music to their ears. Swift grinned, and even Manny looked pleased.

"So, what's your name?" Manny asked pleasantly, and the mouse waved its tail proudly.

"I'm Minnie!" He wrote that down, and ticked the female box without asking. With that name and the mouse theme, there really wasn't much question. Although it was likely that 'she' was actually sexless. Most fully animal style Reploids were. Then the little Reploid scampered back to one of the rechargers, and touched it longingly. "Can I have a rest…?" Many Reploids much preferred using the recharge units, rather than sleeping. It took less time and left them feeling far more refreshed. Also, they did not dream, and after suffering a huge Maverick attack and being driven out of Earthsaver II, not many of the refugees wanted to dream.

"Sure you can," Swift jumped in with a warm smile. "But only because you're working for us right now, okay?" The mouse nodded, and promptly opened the cover and scampered inside, settling in blissfully. Manny made a note by the mouse's name. Letting any refugee use the units was against the rules, but since Minnie had done work for them, it was technically allowable. He'd have to write it up in the report.

"Well, that's one problem taken care of." Manny said, then groaned. "Oh for gods sake. What's wrong now?" Someone was sprinting towards them. The runner skidded to a halt, almost falling as he hit a patch of mud.

"Boss! The transport truck with the fuel cells broke down. They won't be here until tomorrow, maybe the day after."

"Oh crap!" He exchanged glances with Swift. "Will our equipment last that long?" They had been working the fuel cells heavily, confident that more would be coming. She pursed her lips.

"They will if we put them on minimum load. That'll mean shutting off the lights to the camp, though." Swift said, and Manny grimaced.

"Wonderful!" He flipped over the paper on his clipboard, and sourly started writing something else. Swift blinked as she saw it… it looked like a grid of some kind.

"What are you doing, sir?" She couldn't figure it out. Manny looked up with a sour grin.

"Starting a pool on how many complaints we'll get about that. Want to place a bet? Twenty? Thirty?"

"Forty-four." She said promptly. "How much?"

"Just a buck." She nodded and passed over the money. Manny quickly noted her name and her target… then wrote himself in, with the target of fifty. He was sure that by the end of the day, all the support staff and most of the Army types would be in play for their own wild guesses. And whoever was closest would get the money.

It was one of the few amusements they could get around here.

* * *

As it turned out, the complaints topped out at twenty-eight, and Minnie won the prize. She'd joined in four hours later, fresh out of the recharger. Forty dollars richer, she'd scampered back to her tent in the camp, although not before offering her help if they had any problems in the future. If something came up again, they would probably take her up on that.

Now it was nighttime, and Manny was finally asleep, along with all the other support staff… except for Swift. She was on the roof of the trailer, looking up at the stars. Without the camp lights on, they were clear as crystal and just as beautiful.

"Cassiopia," she murmured, finding the constellation. "Persius. The Big Dipper…" Swift sighed. A long time ago, she'd wanted to be an astronomer. But there weren't many jobs for astronomers, these days.

For a long time, she enjoyed the stars, and smiled as some banter from the Army guard position drifted to her. Finally, she slipped back into the trailer, to find her mattress and get some sleep.

She might not be following her dream, but she was doing something worthwhile. That was more than enough.


	7. Deirdre of the Sorrows

The office was quiet. Most of the lights were off, the ventilation equipment was whirring softly, and something beeped quietly, rhythmically. But if an observer had walked down the hall, they would have heard a staccato tapping, and seen a light under a door.

It was the tiny office of a data entry clerk. The only reason she had an office at all was because the data she handled was quite sensitive to the well being of the company.

This particular clerk was a Reploid, and she had been designed specifically for her position. Her hair was long, auburn and silky. Her face was pretty, in a sweet, childish way. Her deep green eyes were warm, her smile sweet, and her voice was warm and pleasant. Her body was statuesque and quite beautiful, encased in deep green armor that perfectly matched her eyes.

Right now, though, it would have been hard for anyone to appreciate her beauty. Her hands moved almost spasmodically, and her face twitched violently as she stared at the screen. A thin line of drool oozed down her chin, ignored and unattended. Her eyes were wide, and wild.

Deep in her mind, neural connections fizzled and popped. She was Maverick, and knew it, but was helpless to stop the conflict that was tearing her apart.

Most Reploids, when infected, followed common patterns. Some went completely insane, driven to wild acts of violence by the virus rampaging through their systems. The strongest Reploids, with iron will, usually fell this way, their sanity shattering under the remorseless onslaught of the Maverick Virus. Such Mavericks were of limited use to Sigma, and usually burnt themselves out quickly in kamikaze attacks. Others broke more subtly, and were still insane, but cunning enough to be quite dangerous. Sigma could make far more use of them, although they could sometimes be erratic. And then there were those who yielded to the virus, for one reason or another. Those were Sigma's generals and trusted troops.

But sometimes, reactions could be highly individual, and this little data clerk was suffering through one of those. Because of the sensitive nature of her work, she'd been commissioned with heavy shielding on her data storage… including her anti-virus protections. And somehow, the virus she had been infected with was particularly weak. It was unable to find the source of her anti-virus protections.

That was not the blessing it could have been, because her virii protections did not have the power to drive the virus out of her. So instead, the weakened virus and her anti-virals were engaging in a continuous war over every aspect of her body. The result was endless, crippling pain as her motor controls and neural net began a slow slide into complete dysfunction.

If she could have yielded to the Maverick Virus, she would have. The pain had started just after quitting time, and it was almost dawn now. Her sanity was long since gone, and the neural pathways in her neural net were randomly firing, fizzling and snapping as the programs battled. A fit of giggling started, and she bit her lip until it bled, her eyes wide and vacant.

"Shits and giggles… shits and giggles!" More giggling filled the room, as she put a program into effect…

* * *

"What in hell is this?" The President of the company complained, glaring at his computer screen. The computer had seemed to work, when he turned it on in the morning… for about five seconds. Now it was full of static and accompanied by a noise that sounded suspiciously like giggling. Then, to his disgust, there was the sound of several large farts.

"It looks like a virus." The IT department manager was calm. "Nothing we can't handle. We're already taking care of it. We might as well let everyone go home, though. This was released right into the company network. Fortunately, the diagnostics say the backups are fine." They backed up everything every night, before everyone went home. The system data was safe… although the company would loose a day of productivity.

"The company network?" The President demanded. "Someone inside the company did this?" That was an appalling thought. This was a small company, specializing in some very delicate legal services. That one of them would deliberately sabotage their work…

Down the hall, another date entry clerk entered the office. She peeked past her friend's door.

"Deirdre? Would you like some doughnuts?" She frowned, seeing her friend was slumped in her chair. "Are you asleep?" That was strange, and not good. No one was supposed to sleep on the job! She stepped into the room and gripped the chair, turning it around-

Her shriek was piercing, and brought everyone in the building to the room in an instant. The President elbowed through the press… then blanched.

"God in his heaven!" The second Reploid girl was whimpering and clinging to a friend, her face pasty white and her eyes wide with horror. "Someone call 911!"

"Bob… she's dead." The IT manager said, his face also white. The President glared at him.

"Call them anyway!" He went to comfort the horrified clerk, trying not to look at the ghastly sight.

In the depths of her pain, before her neural net had gone into complete cascade failure, Deirdre had gouged her own eyes out.


	8. Viva Las Vegas!

The current fashion in ladies fingernails was not particularly long. Nails were often creatively painted in hundreds of different colors, and sometimes taken out and completely replaced with artificial ones. Such artificial nails were usually programmed with dozens of settings, from businesslike pink to bright blue, or even holographic images. Reploid women, in particular, often upgraded their nails this way, tired of tedious nail polish. Such artificial nails were beautiful… and very, very hard. As a young male Reploid discovered, when his companion viciously pinched his arm.

"Ow!" He swore, jerking away, and favored her with a glare. "What was that for, Eiri?" She returned his glare with a venomous expression.

"Stop looking at that family like that, Constantine. You look like you want to kill them." There was a small human family nearby. The children were well behaved, and the adults were taking pictures of the Las Vegas strip.

"I do. Ow!"

"I don't care if you want to rip their heads off and play naked football with them in front of Sigma. If you don't stay socially acceptable, I'm going to sissy slap you into the next century." Eiri hissed at him. Constantine muttered something, but subsided, contenting himself with giving the occasional human a passing glower.

Constantine had been built by the Mavericks, for the Mavericks, and he was a very loyal Maverick. He hated humans with a burning passion, which Eiri considered a bit idiotic, since he'd never had anything to do with them. Physically, he was a tall, dark, handsome Reploid, much like the movie character he'd been named after. Although that character had been human… perhaps she would mention that to him someday, and watch his head explode.

Eiri, on the other hand, was a completely different matter. She was very old, and had been built long before Reploids had any rights. At first a sex toy, then an expensive whore, she had hair the color of burnished copper, a beautiful face, pouting lips and a body to die for. As many men had, since she had surrendered to the Maverick Virus. But despite the infection, her hatred for humans was more of a strong dislike. She was perfectly capable of blending in and acting civilly even during the most trying of circumstances.

Perhaps she found it so easy to associate with humans because she disliked Reploids almost as intensely. Her lips pursed in annoyance as she remembered all the things she had been required to do to get this vacation in Las Vegas. The Virus bound her in unbreakable chains of loyalty to Sigma, but there were some of his lieutenants she'd love to see at the end of X's buster. Or Zero's beam saber. Well, if it wouldn't ruin a plan of Sigma's, anyway.

Random bitching and moaning interrupted her train of thought.

"Why did we have to go to this human pesthole, Eiri? Why couldn't we have just gone to Drakken?" Eiri restrained herself from rolling her eyes, but it was hard.

Drakken was a 'city' deep within Maverick held territory. But calling it a city was a bit like taking a cluster of logs and calling them a forest. It had sprung up spontaneously, and was filled with low-level Reploids who were just too useless for Sigma to be bothered with. Some were infected, while others were runaways and uninfected Mavericks. It had become the unofficial watering hole and place for R and R for all the Mavericks. For the residents of Drakken, this was a mixed blessing. As long as their lords and masters paid, and stayed non-violent, it was good. But what were the poor things to do if someone decided to have fun with them on his leave?

Not that it always worked out in favor of the visiting Mavericks. Eiri smirked slightly as she remembered a recent incident. Sometimes the runaways had skills Sigma would treasure, if he could manage to infect them. No one had ever figured out who had disemboweled Bolt Unicorn and arranged his body so… artistically. Eiri had especially loved what the perpetrator had done with his horn.

But in the end, Drakken was nothing compared to Las Vegas. Just a Reploid pesthole, without any of the gleaming lights and wonderful sights the human city had to offer. But there was no point in explaining that to Constantine. He was really very nice for a Maverick, loyal, dependable, courageous and even kind. He didn't have a speck of sadism in his nature, which Eiri considered a major plus. Too many Mavericks tortured humans for fun. But Constantine was just too narrow a person, too focused on his ideals, to see the tarnish on the silver of Sigma's rule.

Fortunately, she had a practical reason.

"If we went to Drakken, Constantine, Flame Walrus would think you're on call. He'd summon you back before the vacation was half over and you know it. Such a whiner!" Constantine blinked, then grinned at the characterization of his superior. It was quite accurate.

"Okay, okay. I'll try to be polite. Where are we going first?" Eiri rummaged in her purse for a moment. It was a very large, very stylish leather handbag, and she suspected the makers had included a hyper spatial warp just to annoy her. Finally, she managed to locate a tourist flyer, which she leafed through.

"Hmm… we might as well go straight to the MGM Grand. We have tickets to the 8 o'clock show, and it's what? Six?"

"About that." Constantine agreed, taking her hand and tucking it in his arm in a courtly gesture. Eiri smiled happily at him… she really did love him despite his limitations. "This way?"

"Yes." They walked slowly down the sidewalk, enjoying the sights, and Constantine even managed to smile pleasantly when a young human girl tried to sell them roses. Of course, that was probably because they were nicely romantic. He bought one, and presented it to Eiri with a flourish, making her laugh.

Then they walked by the mouth of an alley, and Constantine tensed. Eiri blinked as she heard the crackling sound of a neural whip and a choked off cry-

"Constantine!" He pulled away from her and disappeared down the alley, as Eiri quietly swore. It could very well be a human being assaulted, and even if it wasn't, what business was it of theirs? She sighed, then followed him on silent feet. It was just like Constantine, to act instinctively to enforce order without thinking about whether he should. By the time she reached the trouble, it was all over. She grimaced at the two dead bodies, one headless, the other messily spread across the alley from his fusion generator detonating. Eiri breathed a small sigh of relief as the victim pulled himself off, wincing faintly in pain. He was definitely a Reploid, and he seemed uninjured, except for some surface damage and-

Eiri almost swallowed her tongue as she realized what he was wearing. Ratty jeans, a t-shirt… and the symbol of the 0'th unit on a patch on his shoulder! They had saved a _Hunter?_ A Hunter with thick, blond hair… for one horrible moment, Eiri thought it was the red terror himself. But no. The hair was thick, but short, and Zero had never had freckles. Just a member of his unit, if that wasn't bad enough.

"Thank you so much. That was getting a touch difficult, I'm afraid." He took Constantine's hand with a friendly smile and the Maverick returned the handshake automatically, face blank with shock. Fortunately, the Hunter didn't seem to find that an odd reaction. A lot of civilians probably reacted that way, confronted by a Hunter unexpectedly. Eiri tilted her head to one side… the Hunter had a strange, sing-song accent that sounded very foreign.

"You're welcome," Eiri broke in smoothly, placing her hand on Constantine's arm and getting ready to administer an almighty pinch. "I'm Lana, and this is Monroe." Those were the names they had reserved their room under. "We were just passing by when we heard a whip?" The Hunter grimaced.

"That was me. Silly buggers dragged me off the street and started in on me before I could call my armor. Thank the lord they hadn't any real weapons!"

"I'm astonished they would dare attack a Hunter." It really wasn't characteristic of any mugger with an IQ higher than a goldfish. The Hunter shrugged, then ran a finger over his badge.

"I don't think they knew what I was until they got me down here and saw the badge. Then they freaked and tried to beat me unconscious. Probably thought I'd kill them… which I would have, if I could have just gotten away long enough to call in my armor. Your intervention was most timely!" The Hunter smiled up at Constantine, obviously expecting a reply, and Eiri administered her pinch. Constantine was startled out of his trance.

"Uh… you're welcome." He managed with a smile that looked just a touch sick around the edges to Eiri. But the light was dim, and the Hunter didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, I didn't tell you my name, did I? I'm Edward Alfred Delacroix the Third." Before either of them could react to that preposterous name, he gave them an impish grin. "But my friends just call me Ed."

"Thank god." Eiri muttered, shaking her head. Ed smiled, then touched his badge again.

"Maybe I ought to rethink wearing this. Zero said it'd be a good idea, since I'm fresh from overseas… recruited from the army, don't you know? Hopefully, scare off the muggers and whatnot. But I think it made the situation worse."

"Oh, you're from Britain?" Constantine suddenly said, abruptly recognizing the accent. He'd heard it before, mostly in movies. Sigma operated on all continents, but Constantine had never left North America.

"Indeed." Ed tilted his head, looking down at the bodies. "Hm… what should we do with these?"

"Ah… Monroe and I have tickets to an 8 o'clock show." Eiri said with a smile as Constantine tensed. She quietly prayed to herself that the Hunter would volunteer to take care of the bodies without them. They couldn't afford to be taken to a police station… they scanned automatically for the virus. If he insisted, they would have to kill him and cut their vacation very short. They might even end up on a wanted list, if someone had seen them duck into the alley!

"Oh, well! I won't keep you then," Ed said with an impish smile, to her immense relief. "I'll just tell the police a good Samaritan helped me out, and I didn't catch his name. Have fun at the show, and thanks again!"

"Oh, thank you." They beat a graceful retreat, and as soon as they were out of earshot…

"We saved a Maverick Hunter?" Constantine whispered hoarsely to her, and Eiri shrugged.

"I'm afraid so."

"We saved a _Maverick_ Hunter." Constantine sounded like he was going into shock again. Eiri frowned.

"Constantine?"

"We saved a Maverick _Hunter!_ OW!" Constantine tried to jerk away from her. "Keep those claws to yourself, woman!"

"Then stop being an idiot," she said tartly. "Yes, we saved a Hunter. And so what? No one will know… unless you go shouting it to the world." That settled Constantine a little. Although…

"We should have killed him." Constantine muttered, and winced as he received another pinch.

"We should not have. A dozen people must have seen us duck into that alley, especially the rose girl, and in case you haven't noticed half the bounty hunters in the US go here every weekend! I don't want my picture up in the post office, thank you very much." The good sense and logic of her argument soothed Constantine slightly. "Come on, let's hurry. I want to try the slots before we go to the show."

"You still want to go to the show after that?" Constantine asked, aghast. Eiri gave him an annoyed look.

"Of course I do. These tickets cost me a hundred dollars! If you think I'm wasting them, you're out of your mind. Come ON Constantine, time's wasting." She tugged him down the street.

She wasn't going to let a little thing like this ruin her vacation in Las Vegas.


	9. Aube

_Boot sequence initializing_

_Beginning system calibration_

_Fusion generator activation – 100 percent_

_OS activation – 100 percent_

_Firewall – Active_

_Virii__ protections – Active_

_Motor controls – Initializing – Complete_

_Initiating neural activation…_

* * *

The first thing Aube was aware of was light.

It was not the light of the room he was activated in. No, this was a softer, warmer light than the harsh fluorescents of the activation chamber. And it seemed to have no visible source. It filled his sight, and filled him with a sensation of tingly warmth. In the future, when he spoke of it to a medical 'bot, he would be informed that it was merely a side effect of his neural pathways slowly activating. Yet, Aube couldn't shake the hopeful thought that perhaps, that light had been the place he had come from. His soul, not his body or his neural net. Humans spoke of seeing light in near death experiences, after all. Why should he not have a similar experience at his 'birth'?

Given that first experience, the meaning of Aube's name amused him. His data banks held information on it, and he knew it was French for dawn. What could be more appropriate?

At the moment, though, he was not yet aware of that. The warm glow receded, replaced by a harsher, more brilliant light. Aube slowly became aware of himself, the steady throbbing of his fusion generator, the rise and fall of his chest as he drew in measured breaths, the play of air across his skin. His eyelids fluttered, and he finally opened them.

He was lying in a capsule, and a young woman was standing in front of him, smiling. He identified her as a female Reploid without a thought, automatically accessing the information in his databanks. That knowledge came to him as easily as breathing, although it lacked any true experience or reference points.

"Who are you?" Aube said uncertainly, blinking as he heard his own voice. It was a high tenor, soft and rather sweet. She smiled at him professionally, as he stepped free of his capsule and examined her more closely. She had shoulder length blond hair, dark blue eyes, and dark green armor. Aube looked down at himself, and realized his own armor was a light, cerulean blue, with crystals the color of fine topaz. He made the comparison without thinking, although he had never seen a topaz. But his databanks told him they were yellow stones, and surely they couldn't be any finer.

"I'm Lily. Do you know who you are?" She asked gently, and Aube blinked.

"Of course. I'm Aube." He had known that immediately. Lily's smile turned more genuine.

"Good. I'm sorry, Aube, but I had to ask. Many of our 'newborns' have trouble accessing their databanks at first. That doesn't seem to be the case for you. Would you like to see yourself?"

"Oh yes, please." Aube smiled at her. He was very interested in seeing what the rest of him looked like. Lily motioned him over to a mirror. He hadn't noticed it before, but it was set into the wall. Now that he looked around more closely, he was in a small room that had obviously been designed to be bland and soothing. The walls were painted a soft beige, and the floor appeared to be wooden tiling, although Aube was willing to bet it was actually something more advanced.

Looking into the mirror, Aube was surprised… and pleased. His face was young looking, but very handsome, with eyes of the same topaz as his crystals. There was also gold piping on his armor, meshing well with the color scheme. His helmet was fairly plain, gold framing his face, blue everywhere else, with a brilliant topaz crystal on his forehead. The most unusual thing about the helmet was the two antennae that extended from holes on each side of the top of his head. The antennae were extremely long, folded tightly against his head and trailing down until they reached his shoulders. Now that he realized they were there, he realized he could feel the air currents surrounding him… and as he noticed that, the antennae perked up, lifting up from his head in a sinuous line. The antennae were colored blue, matching his helmet, but he instinctively knew that they were actually part of his head. If he wanted to take off his helmet manually, he would have to be careful of them. All in all, it was a good appearance, and he approved.

"You have those antennae to detect barometric pressure, which should be useful in your work," Lily commented, as she watched Aube admire himself. He lifted his helmet up, just enough to see his hair, and saw it was dark brown, short and curly.

"My line of work?" Aube asked, then answered his own question from his databanks. "Oh… first mate on the _Pandora_." That was a Capesize freighter that mostly operated in the Pacific Ocean. Aube reviewed all the skills he had been programmed with. There were so many, it was a bit daunting, and they were all nautical in nature.

Pre-programmed skills required a deft touch when it came to programming, and typically, there was only one skill set. More could be programmed in, but it took much longer for a Reploid to assimilate without danger of mental problems. Once they had been assimilated, pre-programmed skills came naturally, as easily as breathing. It was still possible for the Reploid in question to be incompetent, but that was a matter of personality, motivation or flaws in the original program. What differentiated a good Reploid manufacturer from a bad one was partly the effectiveness and realism of the skill programming they could provide. Aube did not actually know any of that, but he accepted the presence of knowledge in his mind as calmly as he did the knowledge of the function he had been designed for.

"Yes, indeed." Lily seemed particularly pleased with is response. "Aube, I need to tell you a few things quickly, before your first class starts." Aube blinked. Class?

"Okay." He said cautiously.

"First of all, you are in the orientation facility of Tecknologic, the company that created you. As you already know, you were commissioned to be the first mate of the _Pandora._ To get you ready for that, you will be engaging in a month long orientation. It will consist of a quick history course, a series of social skills courses, and many simulations designed to familiarize you with your pre-programmed skills and give you a chance to exercise your judgment in a non-threatening situation." Lily explained, and Aube nodded slowly. He could see how all that would be useful… all he knew was about ships, navigating, some engineering… there wasn't much about history or society. "You'll be taking these classes in a group of fifteen. Are you ready to join them? Most of them have already been activated."

"Yes." Aube was a bit nervous at the prospect, but ready. Lily smiled, and led him out of the room. The surroundings stayed bland and soothing, as Lily brought him into a larger meeting room. The other Reploids in the room turned to look at him, examining him as he looked over them.

There were seven females, and five males. One of the females had a design similar to his, although her armor was a minty green. Three of the other females were very petite, but very individual in appearance, and each one had a multi-colored starburst logo on their shoulders. The rest of the females were a mixed bag, of various builds and no logos. Two of the males were like the little females, slender and with the same logo. The other three could have been built for anything… Aube couldn't guess what any of them were for, in fact. He was rather curious about it. The female who looked like him stepped forward, a smile on her face, and offered him her hand.

"I'm Spania." They shook hands, and she continued. "I'm going to be the second engineer on the _Pandora_."

"Pleased to meet you," Aube said with a smile. "I'm the first mate." He was pleased to see he was going to be learning with someone he would eventually work with. With that example, the others crowded around and introduced themselves.

Two more Reploids were brought into the room, and the class got down to business. Lily stood in front of the room and smiled at them.

"Could you all take a seat, please?" Everyone quickly took seats, and looked at her expectantly. "Thank you. Now, we're going to give you a brief overview of modern history."

What followed, as Aube and the others listened intently… or not so intently… was a brief overview of history, beginning with the discovery of Rockman X. By the end, they were all slightly apprehensive, some almost fearful. The world sounded like a dangerous place. Lily paused solemnly.

"I know this sounds frightening, but it's a reality we all must deal with. Just do your best, and you'll be fine." They all knew that wasn't exactly true, but it was comforting. "Now, as per the Reploid Bill of Rights, you all have contracts. These contracts are meant to cover the expense of creating and educating you, along with a bit extra so the companies and organizations that have commissioned you will receive a profit. Aube, Spania." The two of them looked at Lily intently. "You have been commissioned by Pentanax, a company that specializes in ocean shipping. You will both be serving three year contracts. Pentanax will provide food and board, amusements in the break room of the freighter you will be working on, and fifty dollars a month as an allowance." Aube nodded thoughtfully. He didn't think that was much, but since he wouldn't actually need to buy anything, it was fair enough. "After the end of your three years, you'll have the option to renew with full salary or take a small severance and find a position elsewhere. Keep in mind, all of you, that the company also has the option to NOT renew your contract if they decide your work is below standard. Keep it in mind." Aube let the rest of the orientation roll over him, as Lily explained the details of the others' contracts. The ones with the logos turned out to be commissioned by the state to work in group homes. The others were mostly skilled technicians and engineers for a wide variety of companies. Although one had been built as a musician for a major orchestra.

To Aube, the next four weeks were full of excitement and wonder. For a full ten hours a day, the new Reploids engaged in various holographic simulations. Most of the simulations were work related, and soon Aube was completely familiar with not just the Capesize freighter that he would be working on, but all kinds of freighter ships. The simulations started out easily, with simple and routine duties, but went on to cover emergency situations and challenging tasks. Aube vastly enjoyed it all, mostly because he knew it wasn't real. He made mistakes, but got to learn from them relatively painlessly… although a harsh critique from Lily did sting.

The rest of the simulations were done in groups, mostly, and they were of social situations. While they all knew the basics of how to act in public, the simulations covered a variety of topics including how to mail a parcel, fill out a cheque, how to act under threat by a human or a Reploid. The solution to those simulations were trickier, but Aube found, to his mild surprise, that the other young Reploids tended to look to him for leadership.

The rest of the time, they were free to do whatever they liked. There was a library on site, full of all kinds of interesting books. Aube and a few of the others promptly became book leeches, learning about anything and everything. A few more read only for entertainment, finding one genre and sticking to it. The others didn't read at all, which struck Aube as peculiar… but they did have other entertainments. A gaming room and an internet café were available whenever they wanted.

Their living arrangements were dormitory style, with group showers for both sexes. Aube disliked the lack of privacy, at first, but then got used to it. Lily informed them all that their accommodations for the duration of their contract would probably be like this. The dormitory did have one major plus, though… interesting conversations before they went to sleep.

"You know, this whole contract thing isn't very fair." One of the males, a big, blocky Reploid named Torrance complained softly. "It's like debt slavery."

"You think we should be built for free, then?" Spania said softly as she lay in her recharger, eyes closed and hands crossed over her belly. Aube smiled from where he was sitting, on the edge of his recharger. She looked very pretty like that.

"Well, no, but humans don't have to pay for themselves!"

"Actually, they sort of do." Aube commented, and they both looked at him curiously. "They have to look after their parents in their old age, which can be quite expensive. And they go into debt for their education."

"How did you learn all that?" Torrance asked doubtfully. Aube shrugged.

"Books. You can learn all kinds of stuff from books." He recalled a story he had read about a woman coping with a senile mother, and another that featured a college student.

"Oh? What else have you learned?" Spania said in a teasing tone.

"How to hock a loogie fifty feet." Aube said promptly. "And if I had any snot, I'd try it." Spania grimaced, and Torrance looked confused.

"What's a loogie?"

"Nevermind," Spania said firmly. "I'm going to rest. See you in class tomorrow." Then she keyed her recharger, and the cover slid down smoothly. It would only take four hours for her to be completely rested and refreshed, which gave her… and all of them… plenty of free time. Aube shrugged, and hopped into his own recharger.

"But I really want to know… what's a loogie?" Terrance asked again, and Aube grinned.

"Read Calvin and Hobbes. The comics are hilarious." Then he keyed his own recharger, and faded into a dreamless unawareness…

* * *

Aube slashed at his enemy with his holographic beam saber, his antennae at full extension as he fought. The other Reploid he was fighting against was only a simulation, but this was two notches above what he had already fought. It was very difficult and he-

Suddenly ducked and rolled as he registered movement. The antennae on his head were meant to measure barometric pressure, but they could also sense movements in the air currents. That effectively gave Aube 'eyes in the back of his head', letting him know if someone approached from behind. That was a tremendous help in combat situations.

But nothing could alleviate the vast disadvantage of being an outnumbered novice. Aube put his back to the wall, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He did manage to kill one before the other got past his guard, and delivered a strike that would have beheaded Aube in a real battle. The simulation shut down with a whine, and Aube sighed, shaking his head.

Most of the other Reploids had tried a few combat simulations. Their regular classes had included a few simulations of what to do during a Maverick attack… which had mostly been along the 'run and hide' line of reasoning. Reasonable, for civilian style Reploids without weapons, but Aube hated not being able to take action. He wanted to actually be able to fight back.

Right now, of course, he couldn't. Aube didn't possess any weapons, although his armor was military grade. Most Reploids were built with excellent armor as a matter of course, but weapons were seen as less necessary. Aube made a mental note to purchase a beam saber at the first opportunity, and a buster as well if he could manage it. That modification was technically illegal for civilian Reploids, in several countries, but it was rarely enforced, according to Lily. Aube had carefully read over Pentanax's rules and regulations, and if he filled out the proper paperwork, they would let him have a buster and saber. That was really all that mattered.

Aube left the simulation, his antennae going back to their rest position against his skull. He idly wondered what their trainers would make of his work on the simulator. Lily had made no secret of the fact that he and the others were monitored at all times. Aube smiled and casually greeted a stranger as he walked back to the dormitory. The new Reploid flinched away, then gave him a shy smile… she was probably from a brand new class. There were always several classes running at any one time, each with their own trainer… the classes were staggered to match production, and a new class graduated every week.

It would be their turn to graduate in only a few days. Many of the others were afraid, but Aube was looking forward to it. He wondered what it would be like…

* * *

"So, Lily, how is your class looking? Still all good?" The Trainee Manager asked her with a smile. Lily smiled back. He was a very nice man, although not particularly effective. But with capable subordinates, he managed the trainee program well enough.

There were only six trainers. Tecknologic specialized in making very capable Reploids, for difficult areas. The Reploids most in demand from them were engineers and technical specialists. They also supplied skilled labor for a number of fields, and their nautical program was considered to be particularly excellent. As a result, their Reploids were quite expensive and production was small. Tecknologic had an excellent reputation for providing excellence, and preserved it by making sure every Reploid they sent out had proved their competency. If a Reploid failed in their simulations, and more importantly, failed to learn, they would be sold cut rate for manual labor, and Tecknologic would absorb the cost of the abrogated contract.

No company liked accepting failures, though, and the trainers were never eager to fail one of their charges. Lily had nothing to worry about on that score. Her smile was quite complacent.

"They're all doing excellently. Pentanax will be particularly pleased… Spania has tested out wonderfully. Well, they might not be pleased with Aube, but that won't be our problem."

"Oh?" asked one of the other trainers, an older human woman. "How so?"

"He's showing a definite affinity for combat, and he's been experimenting with level 4 of the combat simulations," she answered, making the Manager raise his eyebrows. For a Hunter, that was a mild workout. For a one-month old, untrained civilian Reploid, it was a miracle. "Not winning, mind you… but he wins at level 2 and sometimes 3. He might be thinking of applying." They all nodded thoughtfully.

The Maverick Hunters recruited very heavily from the general population. Other military organizations made their own Reploids, but that was a mixed blessing. Reploids made specifically for combat were very good at it… and tended to have problems with motivation. Many more of that sort went Maverick than civilian Reploids who chose to fight. When a Reploid chose the lifestyle of fighting, it seemed they did better than when they were forced into it. That wasn't completely true… many custom built warriors did excellently well… but it was a problem.

When a Reploid still in their original contract applied, the Hunters or army paid the parent company back the worth of the contract. That meant no actual money was lost, but it was… inconvenient. Pentanax might have to deal with some annoyance with replacing Aube, if he decided to apply to the Hunters. But that would not be their problem. If one of their Reploids had the skill and drive to become a Hunter, that was more a success than a failure, no matter how inconvenient it would be.

"And how is the child care program coming?" That was a new skillset, and Lily was dealing with the first Reploids to be created with it, as well as new holographic simulations.

"It seems to be going fairly well, but we won't know until we get some feedback from the group homes." There were a few grimaces around the table at Lily's statement, but no disagreement. When a new program was created, there were always bugs and holes that needed fixing. "Frankly, my group is just fine. They're ready for graduation."

"Alright, then," the Manager said, then looked to the next trainer, a tall male Reploid. "What about your group, Nexus?" And the meeting went on…

* * *

Aube smiled as he felt the spray on his face. Then he laughed as he heard the booming roll of the freighter's horn. It drowned out every other sound on the deck, for a moment, as the freighter ship got underway. He reached over his shoulder to touch the hilt of his beam saber, checking for dampness.

It had been two years since he'dleft Tecknologic, andfirst set foot on the deck of a freighter much like this one. And a bit over one year since he had left it, thinking that he would never set foot on a ship again. But unexpected things happened, and now he was back again.

Aube clapped his hands together, and three heads turned to look at him. He was the leader of a small squad of Hunters, and it was their duty to try and protect this freighter. Or, failing that, to send off a final transmission that would let Hunter HQ know exactly what they were dealing with. Several freighters had disappeared without a trace, and those losses could not be allowed to go on.

Aube regarded his squad for a moment, and smiled. There was Antoinette, a heart stoppingly beautiful Reploid girl with long blond hair, and cold green eyes like shattered ice. Her armor was light pink and silver, and reminded him of bubble gum. Lazing around nearby on a box was Rust. A short, squat Reploid male, his armor was the color of his name. The last member of his squad was Rasputin, a tall, dark, handsome former actor in black armor. They weren't the best squad in the Hunters, but they weren't the worst by a long shot either. Firmly in the middle of the 0'th unit, they would discharge their duty as best they could.

They always did.


	10. A Fascinating Coincidence

Lady Death stepped easily through the forest, quiet as a stalking cat and invisible as the wind.

Well, that was an exaggeration. Invisible as a chameleon might be closer. Her armor was jet black, but over it she wore a strange fabric cloak. A brand new product, designed for covert operations, it generated a field that mimicked the surroundings and made her very difficult to see. The hood was pulled down around her face, hiding any hint of her features.

She was stalking a Maverick today. Although, truth be known, she suspected many Mavericks would have found him just as repulsive as everyone else did. Sadistic pedophilia was a very odd derangement for a Reploid to have. If his creator was ever located, he would have some hard questions to answer.

A few short hours later, Lady Death had a head in her bag and yet another notch on her belt. A completely legal notch, in this case, done under a new identity as a legitimate bounty hunter. The money wasn't as good as her usual rates, but business was slow and the risk had been minimal.

Lady Death paused as she heard a muffled explosion. Whatever it was, it really wasn't her business. She had no reason to interfere, besides curiosity. And as the old saying went, curiosity killed the cat. But unsatisfied curiosity scratched like a pin, and she decided she at least needed to know what was happening. She carefully slipped over towards the sound.

The scene she eventually witnessed was not welcome. Lady Death's lips tightened into a thin line as she saw the shattered trees, the broken hovercycle and the equally broken body that had once ridden it. Fires burned, and she quickly deduced that a group of Mavericks had been lucky enough to surprise a Hunter patrol. If the Mavericks had managed a jamming field, it would take reinforcements time to get here… time the patrol didn't have.

It was an academic matter for most of them already. Lady Death regarded the bodies dispassionately, mentally piecing them together and tallying them. The typical Hunter patrol was four people, sometimes five. She could see three dead that looked like Hunters, and several more that appeared to be Mavericks. That left one, maybe two… following the trail of wreckage, she found a group of six Maverick surrounding the last two Hunters. One, a female in burgundy armor, was unconscious on the ground, perhaps dead. Her companion was standing protectively over her, facing the Mavericks, but it was obvious to Lady Death that he was badly injured. Without her intervention, they would both die… or worse. There was always a worse.

Coldness settled over her thoughts, and Lady Death realized that she had made her decision. She was in her empty place, and she would kill them all. There were only six.

Lady Death reached under her cloak, and pulled out a small spider drone. They were expensive, and she made a mental note to send a bill to Hunter HQ. She quickly climbed the tree beside her… a very tall tree, with plenty of leaves and spreading limbs. Once she was in a comfortable sniping position, she pulled out her remote control and started the drone moving.

The Hunter was trying to talk to the Mavericks, and they seemed to be taunting him. Lady Death's eyes narrowed in satisfaction… they were giving her the time she needed to get the drone into an ideal position. One of the Mavericks suddenly noticed the drone, and she cursed softly as he picked it up curiously. The positioning wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

Curiosity proved fatal as the drone abruptly exploded, shredding the Maverick holding it. Several other Mavericks reeled away, burnt and injured from the plasma grenade encased in the small metal body. Lady Death saw with mild dismay that the standing Hunter was now on the ground, having taken part of the blast. Then the second canister in the drone went off, and smoke covered the Mavericks in a choking cloud.

Lady Death immediately started to fire. She had marked their positions, and could see movement within the cloud, but THEY could not see HER. More astute troops might have realized that she was firing from on high, so to speak, but the Mavericks had not even grasped that. The shots coming out of the cloud were coming in at floor level, and only served to help pinpoint her enemies. A female Maverick staggered out of the cloud, and Lady Death dropped her with a shot to the face.

When the cloud finally cleared, all the Mavericks were dead. To her pleasure, Lady Death saw that the Hunter had killed two of them in the confusion, but had possessed the good sense not to leave his companion. If he had, she would surely have shot him, seeing only movement in the smoke. She climbed down her tree, and walked cautiously into the clearing, pausing only to pump another round into a Maverick who might still be alive. Even a crippled, dying enemy could kill and Lady Death took no chances.

The male Hunter was on guard, staring at her in confusion and apprehension. He obviously had no idea what to expect from her. Lady Death paused, and examined him more carefully. He was handsome; with a face that was young yet gave the impression of age. Perhaps it was because of the long scar that ran down one cheek, marring the youthful beauty. His armor was very nice, blue and red with silver accents. Her gaze dropped to the female Hunter. She was tall and dark, with an oriental skin tone and thick black hair. She was also badly injured, with a tremendous gash in her back.

"Is she alive?" Lady Death asked, her tone mildly curious. She was no specialist on Reploid physiology, but the damage didn't look good. The Hunter stared at her.

"Yes, I think so… who are you?" Lady Death paused for a moment. Sometimes, she got a little confused about which identity she was using at any time.

"Amalie Krem." She answered. "I'm a bounty hunter. And you are…?"

"Ah… I'm Echo, and this is Purity." He ventured a wary smile, and Lady Death smiled back smoothly. "I don't suppose you would have any tools…?" He motioned to Purity, then his own injuries. Lady Death pursed her lips, then nodded.

"Yes, I do." She found a pouch in her chameleon cloak, and pulled out a small welding torch. It had been meant as a general tool to use on Carrion, and she hadn't gotten around to getting rid of it. Perhaps she would keep it… it could be useful in a wide variety of settings, although if she was going to be breaking into somewhere, she would usually bring something more specialized. "Here. I know how to do basic repairs, but nothing more." Echo accepted the tool, and immediately started staunching the worst of Purity's wounds. Lady Death began to slowly scan the underbrush. She didn't really think any more Mavericks were lurking about, but you couldn't be too careful. It took some time, but Echo finally shook his head.

"That's the best I can do." Echo handed back the tool to her, and she accepted it with a nod… then gripped his arm. "Wha… oh." Lady Death smiled as he submitted to her attentions, and she did her best to repair the damage the plasma grenade and Mavericks had done. Her efforts couldn't fix many things, but she was able to plug a few leaks and patch some circuits. Echo studied her as she worked, and suddenly blinked. "You're human, aren't you?" With her armor and chameleon cloak, it was difficult to tell… and her take down of the Mavericks was very unusual for a human. Lady Death nodded.

"Since I was born," she said with a wry smile, and Echo blinked.

"Oh… why did you help us?" It had been a very high risk endeavor, even with her clever tactics. If the Mavericks had been a trifle smarter, they could have targeted her and knocked her out of the tree. Lady Death paused, as she remembered…

* * *

_She was twelve when it happened._

_Just barely pubescent, she had already killed three men and one woman. Her father and her mother had been her first victims, for very good reason. The other two had been fools who had thought they could use her. Her weapon of choice at the time was a broken bottle across the throat. Messy, but quite fatal._

_Back then, she had been surviving by theft. She had tried to join a gang, but found they expected girls her age to spread legs for them. She would never be a whore for anyone, ever. She would never be like her mother. At least her father had been strong in his cruelties._

_Lady Death remembered what it had felt like, being twelve. Her heart had felt like distilled poison, the very essence of rage. Her kills hadn't been cold then, but burning hot, done out of rage and hatred on the men who tried to make a whore of her and the mother that never protected her from anything. With the passion of youth, she hated everyone and everything. Her life was a constant attempt to punish the world for the sins it had committed against her._

_She had been eating when the Mavericks attacked. Huddled under the bridge she used for shelter, she had watched as they destroyed everything she knew… not that she mourned any of it, but she had feared for her own life._

_There was a footstep behind her, and she turned around with lightning swiftness, a broken shard of glass clutched tightly in one small fist. It wasn't much of a weapon, but Reploid armor had a few weak spots…like the face, and the throat. The second was a difficult target unless you were very, very close, but she might get that close. If a Maverick grabbed her, she was determined not to go into the darkness alone._

_And she was about to see if she could. The Maverick in front of her was wearing red and orange armor, civilian style, and he would have been handsome if his eyes hadn't been so insane. He laughed as he spotted her._

_"Little rat girl, little rat… come here, brat." She stared at him, expression malignant. There was no point in running. Even an adult human of his size could outdistance her… she stood no chance against a Reploid._

_"Fuck you." She said succinctly. "And go and-" She made a particularly obscene suggestion, involving his bodily orifices and a pineapple. The Maverick listened, his head cocked to one side and expression amused._

_"Aren't you the filthy little brat?" He moved with blinding speed, gripping her arm and hoisting her off her feet. "I think I'll- OW!" She slashed his face with her other hand, blinding him in one eye. He snarled and grabbed her hand, breaking her wrist with one brutal twist. She hissed at the pain, but didn't cry out. She'd learned how to endure a long time ago. "Little bitch! I'm going to tear you apart!" She gasped as he began to slowly pull her arms away from her body, the joints groaning in protest-_

_There was a blinding flash of light, and Lady Death was tossed away. She curled into a ball, taking the fall with long practice, and looked up as soon as she could. The Maverick was scrap metal, and there was another Reploid there in light green armor. Brown eyes fell on her, and he started towards her. She looked around for another weapon, and bit her lip as she couldn't find anything. Her primary wrist was broken anyway… She was surprised as the Reploid picked her up. His hands were strong, but gently as he lifted her._

_"Hang on, child," he said, his voice soft and kind. She hesitated, then slipped her good arm around his neck. "I'm a Maverick Hunter. I'll take you somewhere safe."_

_"Safe…" Lady Death said softly. She didn't believe in safe, but somehow, the way he said that made her want to._

_She ignored the surroundings, concentrating on holding on as he carried her through the burnt out city. She glanced up at his face, seeing the intent, focused expression he wore as he ducked and dodged out of trouble. She was hindering him, but it didn't seem to bother him. Lady Death studied his face, committing it to her memory. An ordinary face… but in this moment, he seemed extraordinary. A tiny bit of hair had escaped his helmet, and she saw it was the same brown as his eyes._

_They finally reached an evacuation effort, and he jumped into a transport, setting her gently onto the floor. "They'll get you out of here, child." She nodded._

_"Thank you." Lady Death whispered, and watched as he leapt back out of the transport. Then she hissed as a medic gripped her hand, putting a crude splint on her wrist._

_For the rest of the trip out, Lady Death was in a bit of a fog. She was thinking deeply about the Maverick Hunter, the way he had saved her, the way he had acted. There had been no rage in his actions, only cool competence. And he hadn't had to save her… it had been difficult for him, shielding her and avoiding any shots. It was a revelation to her, that she was worth that kind of effort. For all violence she had used to reject her father's demands on her, she had still internalized his opinion of her. Worthless trash, he had called her. One person, at least, didn't think that was true._

_And she realized another thing, that there were people out there who did not deserve her rage. Good people, like that Maverick Hunter. She wasn't sure how she could tell the good from the bad, but she made a silent oath to herself. She wouldn't harm a Maverick Hunter, ever. Killing and stealing was all she knew, but she would never victimize them, as a tribute to the Hunter who had saved her…_

* * *

Lady Death sighed, remembering. Her heart and soul had been too badly scarred for her to ever be normal, even if she had wanted to, but the Hunter's example had set her feet on a less dangerous path. Instead of a furious grenade looking for a place to go off, she had deadened her fury, leached it away and become a keen knife instead. Just as deadly, but selective in her targets. Echo was still waiting for her response, though, and she gave him the shortened version.

"A Hunter saved me when I was a child. It was the least I could do." Lady Death's head suddenly snapped around, and her rifle came up as she registered movement- three hoverbikes. She took aim on the lead one-

"No, don't!" Echo grabbed her gun, and Lady Death suppressed her immediate instinctive reaction… to club him senseless. "We sent for help, but there was a jamming field…" Lady Death relaxed, lowering her weapon.

"Ah. Sorry." She wasn't used to expecting backup… generally, if she saw someone else with weapons, they were an enemy. Only Carrion had been an exception to that rule, and she could have recognized him in the dark, without her optical goggles.

"Echo!" The first hoverbike skidded to a halt, making Lady Death wince. That kind of wear and tear was completely unnecessary and irked her slightly. The female Hunter on it jumped free with a wide grin. "You're alive! You bastard, we thought you were dead!" They embraced enthusiastically, and she pounded his back with one fist. Echo returned the greeting, but then turned somber.

"Yes, but the others…" He shook his head. "It's only me and Purity, and we wouldn't have made it either if Amalie hadn't taken them out." The three new Hunters looked her over quizzically, but Lady Death ignored all but one. He was standing quietly to the side, behind the other two, but to her he was the only important thing in the world.

"It's you," she said softly, staring at the light green armor, the brown eyes… he blinked, looking puzzled. He couldn't recognize her, of course. She was no child anymore. She stepped closer, her plasma rifle hanging limply from her hand. It landed on the ground with a thud as she suddenly moved… and hugged him tightly. He held her awkwardly, startled, as she buried her face against his neck and tightly closed her eyes.

_He even smells the same…_ Lady Death lifted her head, meeting his confused brown eyes. She smiled, and tried to explain. "You saved me, when I was a little girl… it was so long ago. I never thought you would still be alive." It had been almost twelve years ago, and Hunters died all the time. "Thank you." He blushed, then smiled shyly back at her. The years had made quite a change, and Lady Death was far more interesting to hold now than she had been then. She blinked as she realized that, and moved away… but he took her hands, holding them.

"You're welcome," he said in that same soft voice she remembered so well… Lady Death finally asked a question she had always wanted the answer to.

"What is your name?" She had been too dazed to ask, as a child.

"Caedmon." He hesitated, and it seemed to her that he wanted to ask her something, but didn't know how. A thought occurred to her, and she smiled almost shyly. She ordinarily wasn't self-conscious at all… but she was usually putting up a false front. This was different.

"Could I give you my phone number?" She asked quietly. "I need to take my bounty in, but… I'd like to hear from you." That wasn't the wisest move she could make, business wise. It would breach the cover of one of her identities… but Lady Death thought it was worth it. She wanted to get to know the Hunter who had saved her.

"I… I would like that." Caedmon replied, and Lady Death dug out a small notepad from another pocket of her camouflage cloak. It was a cute little pad, a heart surrounded with little forget me not flowers. Somehow, that seemed very appropriate.

"Erm… yeah, well. I hate to interrupt this touching moment, but Purity needs to get back for repairs." One of the others broke in, and Caedmon stepped back with an embarrassed look. Lady Death smiled, amused, tucking away the notepad and folding the piece of paper with Caedmon's number on it. He tucked hers into his armor.

"See you soon." Lady Death watched as they drove away, then picked up her plasma rifle.

She had business to see to.


End file.
